Of Mice and Men
by fuxfell
Summary: PostOC. Bishop takes on a simple job and finds there are... complications. If you are uncomfortable with kidnapping or hostage situations, better stay away.
1. Chapter 1  New Assignments

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

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Bishop sat back on his chair, outwardly relaxed, but his brain working feverishly. To gain time, he lifted his tankard and took a long swig from his ale.

He threw his opponent an amused glance while he in fact tried to make out the face under the hood.

"And what makes you think I would be interested in an assignment like that? After all, it's completely illegal – and just plain _wrong_." He did his best to give his voice a sincere tone. The time he had cared about right or wrong was long past – if he ever had. He could not really remember.

"Oh, come on", the man opposite of him said. "I'm not new at this business. I did my homework, and I know that what I ask is hardly the worst thing you have done."

"That so?", Bishop asked low and menacingly. "And may I ask where you got that information?"

"No, you might not", the man answered. "Let's just say I have my sources. And I'd like to keep them. All you need to know is that this is no trap. Honestly, you have amassed so much crimes that anyone recognising you could just have you arrested without giving himself that much trouble."

"Not here. Did nothing wrong hereabouts."

"Wanna start?" With these words, the man put an impressively large pouch on the table. It jingled promisingly in the process.

Bishop eyed the pouch, but made no move to take it. "Better put that away, else we might get the kind of attention you probably don't seek."

The pouch vanished under the table. "5000 gold pieces. The same after the deed is done."

Bishop forced his face to stay expressionless. "That's quite the sum."

His opponent nodded. "After my research, I know you're worth it. You're the one to get the job done, no qualms, no hesitation, no questions."

Bishop threw him a long glance. "Take off the hood."

The man shook his head. "No."

"I don't do business with people who won't show their face."

"My face has nothing to do with it. You don't need to see it."

Bishop shrugged and motioned to get up. "Then find someone else to do the job. Good luck."

"Wait." The man sighed, and removed his hood. "We want you for the job."

Bishop settled back in his chair, repressing a smile. His mysterious would-be employer was starting to make mistakes. First, he had admitted they were desperate to sign him on. That gave him a lot of leverage. Second, he had admitted he was not alone in this.

Interesting. Maybe he was just an intermediary?

He certainly looked the part. In his forties, black hair streaked with grey, thin moustache and shifty dark eyes. Just the kind of man to do the dirty work for others. Or hire someone else to do it.

"10.000 in advance. The same afterwards", he said calmly.

His opponent gasped, losing some of his cool. "That's outrageous!"

Bishop shrugged. "I'm expensive."

"No way my... I'm going to pay this!"

Again, Bishop had to repress a smile. Nice botch. So it _was_ only an intermediary.

Relaxed, he took another swig of his ale. "The price is not negotiable. Pay, or leave. Your call."

The man gritted his teeth, and Bishop could see him thinking quickly. "Fine", he said at last. "But if there are problems, you'll be sorry."

Bishop smiled thinly. "There won't be any problems, rest assured of that. Now, details."

The man leaned over the table and dropped his voice some. Bishop snorted. As if anyone in this dump of an inn paid the least attention to them. Most of the clientele was already drunk as pigs or had their eyes glued to the displayed goods of the cheap whores who frequented the establishment.

"Her name is Liliana de Lavrans. Lily for short. She has long blond hair and blue eyes. She and a group of friends will make an excursion to the cliffs north of Waterdeep in two days. They will stay the night and return the next day. They will be hard to miss, there won't be another group of rich teenagers around. You will make sure Liliana will vanish during the trip. Mind that it has to look like an accident, though. That point is very important. If anyone doubts it was an accident, you will see nothing of the second batch of money."

Bishop shrugged. "Fair enough."

"You will wait until you can get to her alone. Then you will throw her over the cliffs. If the fall does not kill her, she will drown. Make certain there are no marks whatsoever on her that indicate violence! As soon as the body has been found and the death declared an accident, you will have earned the rest of your money. I will leave a message here when and where to meet me. Questions?"

"Just one. Do you know what will happen if you try to cheat in any way?" Bishop let his cold gaze linger on the other man's face and had the pleasure of seeing a small bead of sweat running down his temple.

"Are you threatening me?" The other one did his best to sound tough.

"Oh, yes", Bishop said softly. "I really am."

"This is unacceptable!" The other man made to get up from his chair.

"Oh, sit down and don't get all blustery on me", Bishop said sharply. "You want me and we both know it. So stop wasting time with stupid games. Just play it straight and make sure I have no reason to be angry with you afterwards. Like not paying up. Or trying to rat me out. Do nothing stupid, and all will be happy. Except Liliana, of course, but you can't please everyone."

"All right", the man gritted out. "Come back tomorrow and I will have the money ready. Go now."

Bishop grinned at him and drained his tankard. "See, I knew we would get along just fine. Pleasure to do business with you." With that, he threw some coins on the table. "Ale's on me." He turned and left the inn.

Outside, he drew a deep breath and tried to get the stink of the inn out of his nostrils. How he hated cities, especially large ones like Waterdeep. Too many people, too little space, and the smell was always offending, even outside. But they also offered opportunities one did just not find out in the woods.

Like his new assignment. Twenty thousand gold pieces were nothing to sneeze at. Especially for so little work. Throwing a girl down some cliffs? Child's play.

But first, he would find out about his employer. That information might come in handy later.

He went round the inn and positioned himself in the shadows, so he could observe the back entrance of the inn. He knew that kind of man – he would wait for some time and then leave through the back and think himself clever in the process. Amateur.

And sure enough, after maybe half an hour, a hooded figure left the inn and anxiously looked around. Bishop snickered soundlessly. So predictable.

He followed the man through the dark alleys and had to admit he made a nice effort to shake possible shadows. He dodged left and right into other alleys, circling round, and turned quite often to see if someone was following him. But Bishop could see his shoulders tensing each time before he whirled around and easily ducked into the shadows in time.

After going in circles for some time, the man obviously was convinced no one followed him and went straight home. Bishop watched as he entered a small, well kept house in a fairly clean street. He memorised the address and went to the inn he had rented a room in. Not a bad evening, all in all.

xxx

Two days later, Bishop took a deep breath, feeling like he'd just escaped from a mouldy prison. It felt so good to be out of the city again. The clean, crisp air, the sun on his face, the tranquillity of the woods. No people, no buildings, no stink, no racket. Bishop really wondered how people endured living like that all the time. Just like cattle. Which, in truth, was just what they were. Cattle, with no other purpose than catering to the needs of some lord or other. Stupid, mindless, content. Nothing but sheep.

Gods, he was glad to be away. But he had to admit his stay had been worth it. Travelling with Riana had put a fair amount of money in his pockets, but even that had not been limitless. He could use some new coin.

Thinking of Riana, he felt the familiar stab of mixed pain and anger, the old wound still festering, the ache still eating away at him after all this time.

She had not even seen him. All the time they had travelled together, she never had seen him. Not _him_. Not the man. The only thing she saw had been the ranger. The tracker. The archer. Never the man. As a man, he had not even existed for her.

She was too blinded by the halo of that fool of a paladin to see Bishop. Not like he wanted to be seen. She had not even noticed the way Bishop's eyes were always following her, hungrily, because her own eyes were fixed on her holy warrior. And Bishop could only watch as the paladin got all that he himself wanted so badly, all that he hungered for. Her smiles, her kisses, her body. Her love.

How he had hated her for it. How he had craved her nonetheless. Like a fever burning in him, burning him up until he thought nothing but ashes would be left behind. Burning his pride, his will, his sense of self.

He'd never before felt anything like it. Never had come so close to losing himself. Betraying her had been an act of self defence, really. A desperate move, trying to survive, to kill that tidal wave of hate and desire that threatened to drown him. But in the end, he could not fight against her. He remembered her clear eyes, looking at him at last, and the expression of pity in them. Pity! For him!

And she had forgiven him. It still made him want to break into hysterical laughter. It was not her forgiveness that he wanted. She could keep that and stick it where the sun never shone. Forgiveness!

The only thing he had wanted from her was to look at him like she had looked at the paladin. To see that fire there, burning for him.

But in the end, he had to admit to himself that she never would look at him like that. Never. The pain had been too much to bear. He simply could not stay and watch her be happy with the paladin any longer. Not without going insane. And he wanted to pay her back for the pain she made him feel. Wanted to make her sorry.

So he had betrayed her, and convinced himself he would be glad to kill her when she confronted Garius. But standing there, her clear gaze trained on him, no anger there, no hurt, just that cursed expression of pity on her face – he could not do it.

So he had simply left. Looked at her for the last time, then forced himself to turn around and leave. There had been no way back to her side, he knew he had burned those bridges thoroughly, but he could not fight her either. Plus, Garius had been really pissing him off, so it was only right the bastard should try and fight his own battles for once.

Bishop had left her behind, facing Garius – and it had been the last thing anyone had ever heard from her. The King of Shadows had not risen, so she must have stopped him, but none of the companions had ever returned.

Bishop had not been able to stand the uncertainty. Cursing himself for his weakness, he had still travelled back to see if he could find any trace of her. But the place had caved in, collapsed completely. He could find no way in. And that meant she and the others could not have found any way out.

Even if they had survived the collapse of the structure, they would have starved or suffocated by now.

He had had to face the truth: The Knight Captain had to be dead. The pain was even worse than the realisation that he would never have her. It took him months to get back on his feet.

And he still missed her. Still dreamed about her.

Still wanted her.

Still hated her.

Cursing silently, he shoved the thoughts away and looked out for a good place to camp for the night. The group of spoiled brats should not arrive before tomorrow. Still time to scout the surroundings. It always paid to know the grounds. Plus, he had no doubt he would hear them in time. People like that always made a lot of noise.

And it did pay to explore the grounds. Bishop found a small hut, in fairly good repair. It seemed to be abandoned, but it obviously had an interesting history – judging from the chains let into one of the walls. They even were still operable, lock and key and everything. Someone had been kept prisoner here, that much was sure.

He shrugged. Whoever that had been was long gone. No use in thinking about it. He would stay the night, and the next day go back to the cliffs and wait for his _assignment_ to arrive. He would wait for an opportunity, shove the girl over the edge of the cliff into the churning sea below, and make it back to Waterdeep to collect the rest of his money. And his employer would do good to pay up, else he would wish someone would just have thrown _him_ off a cliff.

xxx

After a good night's rest, Bishop woke early. He lay awake for some time, staring up into the surprisingly intact roof of the hut, thinking about his future. Thinking about what he was going to do today.

He snorted and smiled grimly at himself. He sure had come far. When Riana had picked him up, he had been scum. Something one scraped from the bottom of a barrel. Never expecting to be something other than scum.

But then _she_ had come along, and she had lifted him up. For a short time, he had been someone else. Had been part of a group, had belonged somewhere. Had had something to fight for. Had been given the opportunity to make something out of his life. Of course, he had cocked it up, like he always did.

And now, he was back to being scum again. Murdering a girl for money. Admittedly, it was a lot of money, but it still was a long way to fall from the near-hero he had been.

On the other hand, heroes had a certain tendency to die young. Or vanish without a trace, like her. So maybe, it had been the right choice. He might be scum. _Was_ scum. But at least, he was still alive.

Shoving those useless thoughts away, he got up and inspected the well in front of the hut. To his surprise, it was still functional. Even the bucket was still dangling at the end of the rope. The hut could not have been abandoned for long.

Bishop pulled up a bucket full of water and tested it carefully. It smelled and tasted fresh. He drank and used the rest to wash himself, then made his way back to the cliffs.

He could hear shouting and laughing from miles away. Early, were they? Well, all the better. He hated waiting around. Cautiously, he neared the group, taking care to stay hidden in the undergrowth. He could not see them yet, but he heard them just fine.

He stopped and slipped behind the broad trunk of a tree when he heard steps approaching.

"Now, what was it you wanted to show me?", a young man said.

"Nothing", a girl's voice answered. Nice voice it was, too, soft and melodic and with just a hint of a seductive undercurrent. Briefly Bishop wondered what the owner might look like. "I just wanted to spend some time alone with you."

"But, love… that's hardly appropriate, don't you think?", the man's voice answered.

"_Appropriate?_" The indignation was thick in her voice. "Cedric, we haven't seen each other for weeks, with you being so busy with your negotiations with the Moonshae trading delegation, and that's all you can think about right now?"

Bishop snickered silently. What did she expect from someone called _Cedric_? Anyone with that name had to be a pansy.

"I'm just thinking of your reputation, love."

Exactly the thing a guy named _Cedric_ would be thinking about. Wimp.

"After all, we will be married in a couple of weeks, and then we will have all the time alone that we want.", the man continued, talking in a soothing voice like trying to appease a child.

"You did not think like that the night down by the lake, when you visited me while my parents and Damian were out!" She did not sound mollified at all.

"Lily, love, we were alone, then! That was different. What if they follow us? See us?"

Lily? So this was his target. And she was about to be married. Very interesting. And hardly a coincidence. But it seemed like he really would be doing her a favour, ending her existence now – at least she would be spared decades shackled to the side of that wimp.

"But as you said", she answered, "we will be married soon. So what can be wrong with a few kisses?". Her voice got low and sultry with the last words, Bishop could hear cloth slipping over cloth and thought she must have moved up to Cedric.

There was a long pause, and then he said, his voice slightly strangled: "Love, please, this is neither the right time nor place for things like this."

There was no reply from her. After a few seconds, Cedric's voice came again. "Love, I promise, you will see the truth of that in time, and then you will thank me. We should go back now."

"Fine!", she said, obviously pouting. "If you must. I will stay here."

Cedric sighed. "As you wish. Have it your way, then, Liliana. You can follow when you have realised that I have done the right thing." Bishop heard him turn and start to leave.

Lily gave a frustrated little squeal and Bishop heard something ricocheting from a tree. Seemed like Lily was less than happy with her white bread of a fiancée and threw something after him.

Bishop snickered again. Cedric should be thankful to him, too. He obviously was no match for Lily's temper. The girl would have made his life hell.

Well, time to get to his job. An opportunity like this would not come again. Bishop stepped round the tree he had been hiding behind, careful not to make any sound – and stopped in his tracks. She was standing there, looking into the direction Cedric had vanished, her back turned to Bishop. She wore a blue velvet dress and had long blond hair, trailing down her back like he had been told.

He stood, staring at the silvery tresses, flowing down in soft waves, lightly blowing in the breeze. His stomach clenched.

That hair... more silver than blond, flowing all the way down to her waist… so familiar. Bishop could not stop a soft, hissing noise from escaping him as he exhaled sharply.

The girl turned and he stared into the face that had haunted his dreams for so long. His knees went weak, and he had to steady himself against the tree next to him, to keep from falling down.

"Riana", he whispered, his heart starting to beat painfully in his chest.

Dumbfounded, he could only stand and stare at her, and slowly, he noticed the differences. She was younger than Riana, by several years. Her face was a bit rounder, still the last remnants of puppy fat left, her lips fuller and her eyes slightly larger, but they had the same deep violet colour as hers had been. The long, silver blond hair, the slight figure, even the same arch to her eyebrows...

She was like a younger, more innocent version of Riana.

And she opened her mouth to scream.

Instinctively, he jumped forward and his hands went round her throat, squeezing, to keep her silent. She struggled, proving to be surprisingly strong, scratching at his arms, and he kept squeezing, because he could not afford to let go now.

After an eternity, her movements stilled and she lost consciousness. Breathing heavily, Bishop let go and let her glide to the ground. Purple bruises were already forming around her neck. He stood, staring down at her, into the face that once had been his whole world, and felt the old pain rise fresh as the morning.


	2. Chapter 2  The Lily

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading. _

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did. _

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Liliana turned her eyes away from the mirror and looked out of the window.

The sky had finally lost its greyblue colour, and the first light of dawn illuminated the distant horizon in a soft, orange glow, indicating that sunrise was near. The birds chirped melodiously in the numerous trees of the vast gardens that surrounded the estate of her family, and she sighed contentedly as anticipation and excitement mingled strongly in her chest. The sky was clear, with only a few white fleecy clouds here and there, and a soft breeze made the curtains of her room blow lazily in the light draught. It was going to be a lovely day.

A sharp pull at the strings of her bodice made her gasp, and she looked back into the mirror, only to see the eyes of her governess twinkle with barely suppressed mirth as the elderly woman continued to fasten the dress of her young charge.

"Nedda, please, don't fasten the bodice so tightly. I cannot breathe."

The woman, whose slightly pointed ears and almond-shaped eyes hinted at her father's elvish heritage, cast her a strange look, half exasperation, half amusement.

"Believe me, child, it would be a lot easier if you could just stand still for a moment without craning your neck or fidgeting around. And I _do_ recall mentioning to you that this kind of dress wasn't exactly the best choice for travelling cross-country."

Nerdanel had been with her family for as long as Liliana could remember. The half-elf had been her nanny and governess since she had been barely more than a toddler, and although she loved the woman just like a favourite aunt and dearest of friends, Liliana couldn't keep herself from rolling her eyes, fighting the sudden, childish desire to stick out her tongue at the amused face that watched her in the mirror.

"Yes, I know. But Jeanne did not like the idea of going by horse, and so we're using carriages instead. I won't have to ride or run with it, and it will do for a short walk in the woods."

Besides, she hadn't seen him for weeks. Today, she just wanted to look perfect.

Liliana looked at her image in the mirror. The dress she had chosen was of the latest fashion, made of satin and velvet with a long, wide skirt, decorated with embroideries and small ribbons, its colour somewhere between the deep blue of forget-me-nots and the colour of lavender, perfectly matching her silver blonde hair and blue eyes. Wearing a bodice was rather uncomfortable, but she had to admit that it accented her slender waist and made for a truly gorgeous neck-line, and she couldn't help but smile a little as she imagined the look on Cedric's face.

At the thought of her fiancé, other, much sweeter memories came back to her mind, and the beat of her heart quickened ever so slightly as she remembered how he had lain beside her that night in the shadow of the old boat-house, down by the lake, with his hand in her hair and his lips on her throat, whispering her name lovingly into her ear while his other hand had slowly undone the laces of her dress…

Her eyes fell on Nerdanel again, and Liliana felt her cheeks flush ever so slightly at the sight of the knowing smile that flickered across her confidante's face.

"We still have to decide what to do with your hair.", the elderly woman said thoughtfully, and Liliana felt her cheeks redden even more at the good-natured humour that was very prominent in Nerdanel's deep and melodious voice.

"I thought to wear it open.", Liliana answered with an embarrassed smile.

Cedric loved it when she let her hair simply flow down her back, right down to her waist. It seemed that Nerdanel knew that as well, because her knowing smile widened noticeably while at the same time, the half-elf slowly shook her head, frowning slightly.

"I know that your fiancé likes it when you wear your hair like this, Liliana, but you'll be travelling in an open carriage, and if we don't pin it up, you'll look like a scarecrow by the time you reach the cliffs."

Her stern expression softened somewhat as she saw Liliana's disappointed face, and added with a small smile.

"Here, when we use these hair needles to pin your hair under your hat, you will have no problem to open it again once you've arrived, and it will still look lovely then, all for dear Cedric."

Liliana laughed and threw her arms around the woman, squeezing her tightly.

"Oh Nedda, you're simply the best!"

The half-elf smiled, and her eyes sparkled with laughter as she started to pin up the long, shining tresses of her protégé's silver blonde hair.

"Obviously."

xxx

As soon as Liliana entered the great hall, she was greeted by her mother and one of the watchmen of the estate, a broad-shouldered man called Jackson. Her mother still wore her dressing-gown, due to the early hour of day, and started to lecture her daughter in her soft voice about all the things one should never do while being out of a city, until Jackson finally said with a smile:

"Don't worry, Madame, we'll take good care of the young lady and her friends."

That seemed to reassure her, and she gave Liliana a loving kiss on her forehead before she made her way towards the kitchen to tell the employees to bring out the provisions, and Liliana cast the watchman a thankful smile and hastened to follow her mother as she suddenly heard a deep voice from behind, making her heart almost leap out of her chest in fright.

"Ready to leave?"

Liliana whirled around, her long skirt whispering softly on the polished stones, and saw her brother slowly walking towards her, already dressed in a rich doublet and heavily embroidered breeches, despite the early hour of day.

"_Gods_, Damian. You startled me!"

He smirked as he sauntered closer, his piercing blue eyes never leaving her face, watching her intently, and his voice was full of amusement as he spoke.

"My apologies, little sister."

She smiled and watched him move towards her until he finally stood right in front of her, staring down into her face.

"I did not know you were up already."

He shrugged, a movement as casual and graceful as that of a cat, and with his shoulderlength blonde hair and rich doublet, he looked like a younger image of their father - and every ounce a gentleman.

"Father's still away for his negotiations with the Neverwinter Trade Guild, and there is… business… I have to take care of while he's gone."

He watched her looking up at him, and a small smile flickered across his face as he lifted a hand to stroke a small curl behind her ear.

"But I thought I could skip these obligations for a short while to wave my little sister good-bye."

She smiled and stepped closer to him, drawing him into a tight embrace. She felt him tense almost imperceptibly at her touch, obviously surprised by her sudden movement, but then she felt him relax and put his arms around her as well, holding her close while she said into his ear.

"That's a really sweet thing to say!"

She felt him smile against her cheek, and his voice sounded truly amused as he replied.

"That's the least I can do. I'm your brother, after all."

Her arms still around his waist, she leaned back a little to look up into his face again, and her voice became somewhat pleading as she spoke.

"Damian, please, will you not give your heart a push? It will be so much fun, and Evelyn would be so happy to see you."

His expression clouded noticeably as soon as she mentioned the name, and he scowled, looking as if he had bitten on something sour and vile, and Liliana could feel him tightening his grip around her while his voice sounded surprisingly sulking all of a sudden.

"The little harpy."

Her stomach clenched almost painfully as she saw the cold expression on his face, but her voice became a little sharper nonetheless as she stepped in to defend her friend.

"Oh, Damian, please don't say that, she really likes you."

His pale blue eyes bored hard into hers, his face now almost expressionless, and Liliana felt a strange shiver run down her spine as she looked up into these suddenly so cold and distant eyes.

"Look, Lily, I know you mean well, but I have told you before - I can't. Another day, I promise, but not today."

Suddenly, the soft voice of their mother echoed through the vast hall, startling both of them.

"Liliana, dear, the carriage has arrived."

She turned around and called over her shoulder.

"I'm coming."

When she returned her attention to her brother, she saw him watching her intently with an unreadable expression on his face, and a strange light shone in his eyes as he addressed her in a surprisingly quiet voice.

"Farewell, Liliana."

She laughed, her blue eyes sparkling with good humour as she leaned forward to give him a quick peck on his cheek, smiling at the strange expression she now saw on his face. "Farewell? It's just two days, you know. You almost make it sound like I'll be gone forever."

For a moment, he simply watched her, his expression unchanged. Then a thin smile flickered across his face, thawing the cool of his stare, but his voice kept sounding strangely distant nonetheless.

"Of course."

He leaned closer to return her kiss, and she caught a whiff of the expensive aftershave he liked to use before he stepped away again, his gaze losing none of its intensity.

"Enjoy yourself, little sister."

And with that, he simply turned around and walked back to his suite of rooms. Liliana watched him go, wondering what had happened between him and Evelyn that had put him in such a strange mood, and so she almost jumped out of her skin as she suddenly felt a small hand on her shoulder, startling her out of her reverie.

"Liliana?"

She turned to see Nerdanel standing beside her, watching her intently, a questioning expression on her face. She smiled at her governess and nodded, but couldn't keep herself from turning around one last time to look in the direction where her brother had disappeared while she and Nerdanel made her way towards the front gate of the estate, where her mother and Jackson were standing, waiting for her.

"I'm coming."

xxx

Although the sun had barely reached the top of the trees, the camp was already a loud and lively place, full of laughter and friendly shouts.

Liliana and her girl friends sat on a large blanket, enjoying the warming rays of the morning sun and watching the boys erecting their tents, while the servants were busy preparing the field kitchen, the smell of fresh bread and roasted chicken tickling their noses promisingly.

"Oh, Lily, _please_, just tell us one more time!"

At the sound of Evelyn's high, excited voice, Jeanne rolled her eyes, and Liliana had to suppress a smile as she saw the look on her friend's face. Although Cedric's proposal hadn't been completely unexpected, it had caused quite a stir nonetheless, and Jeanne, who always liked to be the centre of attention, couldn't hide the fact that behind all her nice talks and sweet smiles, she actually loathed the fact that for once, Liliana clearly outshone her.

"Oh yes, Lily, _please_!", Mariella and Rhiannon chimed in, both looking equally excited as little Evelyn. Jeanne looked like she had bitten on something sour, and Liliana laughed.

"There's not much to tell. He asked me for a walk in the gardens, and as we reached the fountain, he asked me to sit down by the waterside… and then he proposed."

"Did he kneel?" Evelyn's green eyes were shining with delight, and Liliana couldn't keep from laughing a second time, regarding to the fact that Eve must have asked the same question for at least a hundred times.

"Yes, he did kneel. And then he gave me his ring."

Liliana lifted her hand a little to watch the piece of jewelry that graced her finger. It was a silver ring, masterfully crafted and shaped like a dolphin, carrying in its snout a teardrop-shaped, rose-coloured pearl, which was shimmering brightly in the light of the sun.

"Oh, Lily, the ring is so beautiful!", Rhiannon said with a sigh. Liliana smiled at her friend and then turned her head to look after Cedric, and found him watching her as well, a smile flickering across his face as their eyes met across the clearing, and she felt the beat of her heart quicken ever so slightly as she watched him turn around and lend a helping hand to Nathaniel, Mariella's brother, who was still fighting with the last tent pole.

"A pity that Damian couldn't come.", Evelyn said sadly, and Liliana put a hand on her friend's delicate shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

"I'm sorry, Eve, I really tried. But now that father's in Neverwinter, he's responsible for the trade, and so he simply couldn't spend two days out in the woods."

Although she had done her best to cheer the girl up, Evelyn looked still thoroughly unhappy, and so Liliana hastened to add:

"But you'll see him at the barbecue, so don't worry.", giving her friend one of her most encouraging smiles, wondering not for the first time what had happened between her best friend and her brother.

"I'm glad that he couldn't come.", Jeanne spoke up all of a sudden, sounding bored, but her voice faltered a little as she saw Liliana's cool and angry stare. "Don't look at me like that, Lily, I really like your brother, but you have to admit that he would have _never_ stopped working, even out here in the woods, and his secretary…"

The young woman shuddered.

"I mean, the way he can look at you with those dark, piercing eyes, like you were just some kind of cattle… and then the way he wears his greasy hair, along with that thin moustache… He looks shifty, if you know what I mean."

"Greyburgh has been working for our family for years, and he is one of my father's most trusted employees.", Liliana said in a cool voice, and she lifted her chin challengingly as she glared at her friend. "And somehow, I always got the impression that you _liked_ your men shifty."

Jeanne gave a small, affected laugh, but Liliana could see by the stiff way the girl suddenly carried herself that she was angry.

"Oh, please, he's _way _too old for me."

"Who's way too old for you, dear cousin?", Cedric's deep voice suddenly sounded from behind, and he and his friends sat down beside the girls on the blanket, Cedric sitting close to Liliana and taking her hand.

"No one, dear. Liliana was just telling us of your knightly proposal."

"Oh, did she?", Cedric said with a smile and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it lightly, and Liliana felt the blood rush into her cheeks as she looked into his warm, brown eyes and felt his touch on her skin, while the girls around them giggled behind their hands.

Rhiannon asked something about the tents, and soon everyone was deep in friendly conversation, but Liliana had just eyes for the young man sitting by her side, talking vividly about his recent meetings with the trade delegation of the Moonshae Islands. She looked how the wind played with his short, soft black hair, and admired the proud line of his chin, the elegant arch of his cheekbones, and felt a sudden, painful desire to be alone with him, away from their talking and giggling friends.

"Cedric, love, do you mind if I have a moment of your time? I… would like to show you something."

At the sound of her softly spoken words, he turned around to face her, and his eyes twinkled with amusement as he replied.

"Of course." He stood gracefully and held out his hand. "My lady."

She accepted it with a small smile and did her best to rise as gracefully from the ground as he had, while she heard the excited whispers and giggles in her back, but did her best to ignore them.

"Maybe we could walk over there.", she whispered softly into his ear, pointing with her finger towards a small path that led into the woods and towards the cliffs, and he offered her his arm in a wide gesture, her heart beating faster with anticipation as she saw the loving look in his eyes.

"Whatever you wish, my love."

"Don't fall off a cliff, Lily!", Mariella called after them, and the girls burst out into another fit of giggles. Liliana turned around and stuck out her tongue, which made the girls laugh again, and then returned her attention to the man walking by her side, her heart beating longingly as she heard his amused chuckle.

They followed the small path into the woods, and Liliana was just admiring the way the sunlight played on his dark hair as Cedric suddenly stopped and turned around to face her, a gentle smile on his lips.

"Now, what was it you wanted to show me?"

Liliana answered his smile and moved a little closer to him, her hands now resting comfortably on his hips.

"Nothing. I just wanted to spend some time alone with you."

His smile widened a little at her softly spoken words, but there was a sudden gleam of uncertainty in his eyes that she hadn't expected, and it puzzled her.

"But, love… that's hardly appropriate, don't you think?"

"_Appropriate?_"

For a long moment, she could do nothing but stare at him, her eyes widening in disbelief, and her heart ached painfully in her chest as she stepped away from him, her voice sounding hurt and accusing all of a sudden.

"Cedric, we haven't seen each other for weeks, with you being so busy with your negotiations with the Moonshae trading delegation, and that's all you can think about right now?"

She saw his eyes widen a little as the young man suddenly realised that he must have said something wrong, and was somewhat pleased to see him hasten to stand by her side again, reaching for her shoulders to pull her a little closer, but she did not miss the glint of disapproval in his eyes as he replied.

"I'm just thinking of your reputation, love."

Obviously, her reaction to his words wasn't as forgiving as he had hoped, because he reached with both hands for her face to caress her cheeks and added with a winning smile.

"After all, we will be married in a couple of weeks, and then we will have all the time alone that we want."

His voice was soft, soothing, and usually, it was enough to make her comply in the end. But right now, it chafed her that he seemed to think that she was nothing but a small, silly girl that he could soothe so easily, and so her voice was thick with indignation as she replied.

"You did not think like that the night down by the lake, when you visited me while my parents and Damian were out!"

Cedric's expression became a little desperate.

"Lily, love, we were alone, then! That was different. What if they follow us? See us?"

She shook her head again, still not able to understand how he could say such things to her in a moment like this, and her voice was full of disappointment as she replied.

"But as you said, we will be married soon. So what can be wrong with a few kisses?"

And with that, she reached up for his face and pressed his lips firmly onto hers. For the length of a heartbeat, he gave in to the kiss, and Liliana enjoyed the feel of his soft lips on hers as his hands wandered down to her shoulders to pull her closer, but as the first wave of pleasure started to spread through her body, she felt him tense all of a sudden, and he quickly turned his face away, breathing heavily.

"Love, please, this is neither the right time nor place for things like this."

His cheeks were a little flushed, and his deep voice sounded unusually rough and strangled, but his words of rejection dampened her spirits, and Liliana quickly averted her eyes, as she did not wish him to see the vast disappointment there.

"Love, I promise, you will see the truth of that in time, and then you will thank me."

He cast a quick glance over his shoulder, in the direction of their camp, and his voice was cool and controlled again as he spoke.

"We should go back now."

At his measured words, her disappointment suddenly turned into a cold-burning anger that seemed to coil and twist inside her like a snake, making her want to scream and throw something in frustration, and so she kept her voice deliberately cool and distant as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, glaring daggers at him.

"Fine. If you must. I will stay here."

Cedric turned to cast her a puzzled look, and for a fleeting moment, she thought that her angry outburst would be enough to make him step up to her and take her into his arms again, whispering into her ear that he was sorry. But he just shrugged, obviously intending to leave without her, and his voice held a disapproving note as he replied.

"As you wish."

He bent down to kiss her on her cheek, but Liliana quickly turned her face away, her anger still burning too strongly within her to let him touch her, and so all he could do was step away from her with a sigh, the look of disapproval now clearly edged across his face.

"Have it your way, then, Liliana. You can follow when you have realised that I have done the right thing."

And with that, he simply turned around and walked back towards their camp. Liliana watched him go, seething inwardly, and in a sudden outburst of frustration, she grabbed a small branch from the ground and threw it against a nearby tree, watching it bounce off the trunk and hit the ground again with a dull, rustling noice, her mind racing.

How _dare_ he talk to her this way? How _dare_ he treat her like she was nothing but a silly, minor child?

_You can follow when you have realised that I have done the right thing._

The _right_ thing?

They were engaged, after all. How could he let it sound like she was doing something wrong, when all she wanted was spending some time with the man she loved? Kissing the man she loved?

There was a soft, hissing noise behind her, and Liliana looked around, curious, and her eyes widened in surprise as she saw a stranger standing under the nearby trees.

He looked like a man of the woods, with his leather armour and clothing in colours of brown and green, and she noticed the tan of his skin, hinting that he was actually spending most of his time outdoors and under the sun. He looked well into his twenties, and his eyes had an unusual colour, a brown so light that it almost shone like amber, and she felt a little uncomfortable as she felt his piercing gaze on her, wandering over her face like a brand.

The look of his equipment, his dishevelled mahogany hair and the dark shadows under his eyes hinted that he had seen better times, but Liliana had to admit that with his sharp features, unusual eyes and that shadow of facial hair, he had just the kind of dangerous good looks that would have evoked an admiring sigh out of most of her friends, although here, alone in the woods, Liliana found it actually frightening rather than fascinating.

He stared at her, his strange eyes wide, and she saw him actually pale under his tan, like he had seen a ghost, and then suddenly reach out with one arm to lean heavily against the tree next to him, as if his knees had just given out beneath him.

His lips moved, whispering a single word, but his voice was too low for her to hear. He kept staring at her, and Liliana felt cool shivers run down her spine as she saw a strange fire ignite in his eyes, and frightened, she half-turned her head to call for Cedric.

His fast move startled her. Before she had even opened her mouth, he was already standing beside her, his hands now closing firmly around her throat and squeezing it tightly, and her startled scream died on her lips as he mercilessly increased the pressure around her throat, choking her. Out of a reflex, she tried to gasp for breath… and couldn't.

A terrifyingly strong wave of utmost panic welled up inside her, and Liliana clawed at his arms and hands with all her strength, desperately trying to free herself, to breathe again, but he held her in an iron grip, and after what felt like an eternity of fear and pain, her vision started to blur while the pain in her lungs became almost unbearable.

She tried to calm herself, her mind screaming at her again and again that the gods would never allow something like this to happen, that Cedric would come looking for her and that she would be saved in the end… but besides the small sounds of their battle, the woods remained silent, and as her eyes darkened, she finally had to admit that there truly was no one else in this part of the woods besides herself… except for the stranger.

Her eyes were pleading with him now, begging him to spare her, to loosen his hold around her throat, but his face remained impassive, unfeeling, as he cooly watched her dying struggles, and the last thing she remembered before she finally lost consciousness were his strange eyes, burning in an almost feverish light, and then everything became dark.


	3. Chapter 3  Botch Up

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

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Bishop stood staring at the unconscious girl at his feet, feeling like his heart was being squeezed in a vice-like grip.

How could that be? How could she look so much like Riana?

And why? _Why?_ He finally had gained at least some of his footing again, and now…

He went to his knees next to her, checking her pulse, finding it beating steadily. She was alive, and would in time come to. He hesitated, fighting the impulse, but then softly touched her hair with a trembling hand, letting it glide through the silky strands. He swallowed and let his fingers wander over the smooth skin of her cheek, to her mouth, following the curve of her lips with his fingertips. A small shiver went down his spine, and he felt like somehow, he could not get enough air.

He let his hands slide behind her shoulders and carefully lifted her up, so that her upper body leaned against his. Her head lolled back, and he steadied it with one hand in her neck. Her face was so close now, and he stared at her, drinking in her sight.

Then he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against her hair, inhaling deeply. She even smelled like Riana, sweet and enticing.

Without noticing it, his arms tightened around her as he pressed her closer, his heart accelerating. His lips touched the soft skin under her ear, and a tremor went through him.

_Riana…_

No! This was _not_ Riana! This was his target. And his job was to throw her down the cliffs.

He inhaled once more, drawing in her scent, then he forced himself to lift his head, slowly opening his eyes. He would pick her up, carry her to the near cliffs and dump her over it. Assignment fulfilled. And then he could go back and collect the rest of his money.

And forget this had ever happened.

He let his gaze fall back down on her and hissed when the deep purple marks on her neck caught his eyes.

Bloody hells!

_Make certain there are no marks whatsoever on her that indicate violence!_

Damn, damn, damn!

Those bruises around her neck just screamed violence. If she died like this, no one would believe in an accident.

He had screwed up royally.

The sound of laughter drifting to him from the camp reminded him that he had to do something, and soon, before they came looking for her.

He cursed under his breath and stood up, lifting her into his arms. He could still salvage the situation. It would just take a little more time. He would take her back to the hut and wait until the marks round her neck had healed.

And throw her down the cliff in a couple of days.

No big deal, really.

Carrying her in his arms, he quickly wove through the trees and undergrowth, careful not to leave a trail. He doubted any of the city brats could track at all, but he had made enough of a mess of this job already. He was not taking any more risks.

He made his way back to the hut, forcing himself not to look down at the girl he carried. No need to see her face. She was dead already. That she still breathed was just a minor detail.

The way to the hut seemed very long indeed.

xxx

When he at last arrived at the hut, he entered, still carrying the girl, and placed her on the ground. The colour was returning to her cheeks slowly. She would wake soon.

He put some blankets on the ground where the chains were let into the wall. How very convenient this was. He should send a note of thanks to the builder of this hut.

After that, he went back and carried her to the blankets, laying her down. He inspected the chains closely. They were ankle rings with quite long chains attached to them, so that anyone shackled to the wall could move at least a bit. But they were made of iron, and they would chafe after a while. Bishop could not afford simply replacing the strangulation marks on her neck by chafe marks on her ankles.

Sighing, he went to his backpack and pulled out one of his spare shirts, the oldest he carried, and started to rip it into stripes. Those cloth stripes he wound around the metal of the ankle rings, to serve as padding. When he got paid, he could afford a dozen new shirts.

He checked his work and found the cloth thick enough to protect her skin from the metal. Then he started to remove her boots. Nice boots they were, soft blue suede, laced with blue ribbon, going up to the mid of her calves, with a moderate heel.

Pretty. And an incredibly stupid thing to wear in the woods. As was her equally pretty dress. Stupid, spoiled, mollycoddled city gal.

He took off the boots, staring down at the soft, milky skin of her calves peeking out under the long, flouncy skirt. Hesitatingly, he reached out, his fingers trembling, sliding slowly upwards from her ankle. He could hear his own blood pounding in his ears while his hand wandered upwards, nearing her knee.

_No!_

He tore back his hand and pressed his knuckles into his eyes, trying to steady his breathing, trying to get a grip on himself.

_It's not Riana! It is _not_ Riana! She is no one! Just a girl that will die soon._

A soft moan from the girl made him flinch. Cursing, he hurried to fasten one of the ankle rings around her leg and pulled down her dress with a nearly forcible motion, so that only her toes showed under the cloth. One ankle ring would have to suffice. The key to the chains he slipped into the pocket of his breeches.

Should he gag her as well? His gaze travelled back to her face, lingering on the bruises on her neck. Not necessary. Her throat would be hardly in any condition to scream. If she was lucky, she would manage a hoarse whisper.

He could not keep his eyes from wandering farther up, to her face. Her eyes were still closed, but her eyelids had started to flutter slightly. She moaned again, her lips slightly parted. For a moment, he sat motionless while he stared at her mouth, then he cursed again and abruptly sprang to his feet.

He turned and left the hut, pulling up a bucket full of water from the well, his movements jerky. He splashed some of the cold water on his face, then groaned and dunked the whole thing over his head.

The sharp sensation of the cold water did much to clear his mind. He shook himself like a dog, running his fingers through his wet hair. His shirt was wet and clung to him, but at least his brain was working properly again.

He would have to stop this madness. It was unfortunate that the girl in the hut reminded him so much of things lost, but it could not be helped. He would just have to keep it together, stay focussed and not let himself be distracted. He could do this. He'd only have to remind himself that this was not _her_, and everything should be dandy.

And maybe he should not look at the girl more than absolutely necessary.

Steeling himself, Bishop went back into the hut. The first thing he saw was that the girl had drawn herself up to a sitting position, her hands clutching at her throat. Her eyes were wide as she watched him enter the small building.

He threw her a glance, but quickly averted his eyes and wordlessly went to his backpack, taking out his bedroll and some more blankets. Still silent, he started to build his berth by the wall opposite to her.

No use in chatting. Why, if he would kill her anyway in a couple of days?

He could hear her cough and moan afterwards as it hurt her sore throat. She croaked something as she tried to speak, then very carefully cleared her throat.

"Who…" she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible, "who are you?"

Bishop simply ignored her and continued his work, his back still turned to her.

"What do you want?" Her words were still slow and painful. "Gold? I don't have any gold."

Bishop turned to his backpack and started going through the contents until he found the bread and dried fruit he had taken with him as provisions. He sat back on his bedroll and took a bite out of the bread.

"Talk to me!", she croaked, anger starting to make her voice a bit stronger, if still hoarse. "What do you want?"

Bishop still did not look at her. "Shut up", he just said.

"Why should I?" She paused, only to address him in a haughty voice again. "You know of course that you are in a rather precarious situation right now, don't you?"

That made Bishop look up at her at last, his lips curling derisively. "That so?", he sneered.

She sat, rigidly upright, her back against the wall. There was quite a bit of colour in her cheeks, and her eyes flashed angrily.

"You know, my family will be looking for me soon. My father is a very influential man, and he and his associates will make you regret that you have ever laid a hand on me! And who knows - after you have been caught, my brother will probably want to challenge you himself. He's a very good swordsman!"

Bishop threw his head back and laughed.

"Good one", he then said, still grinning. "If he _does_ challenge me, I'll take care not to ruffle his hair, I promise."

"I hope he runs you through with his sword!"

Bishop smirked at her, getting up from his bedroll and slowly, menacingly stalked over to her. He could see the defiance slowly die in her eyes with every step of his, while she tried to melt into the wall at her back.

Something in Bishop loved the fear on her face, loved seeing her shrink from him. Her long, silvery hair flowed in wild strands around her face, her deep violet eyes were huge and firmly fixed on him.

Completely at his mercy.

In his mind, she turned into another woman sitting before him, looking up at him.

He shook his head to get rid of the image and went to his knees in front of her, leaning forward into her, supporting his weight with one hand against the wall, deliberately invading her space.

She tried to shy away, but with the wall in her back, there was nowhere left to go. He could see her shiver. Gods, he loved it.

"Yes, little mouse", he purred. "Be afraid. Be very afraid. Your family is not here. But I am. We are deep in the woods. No one will find you here. Not in time."

She tried to curl up into herself as much as possible. "What do you want?", she asked again, in a very small voice this time. "A ransom? My father is very rich. He will pay anything you want. Anything!"

He sneered. "Oh, I will be paid, little mouse, don't worry. I am paid a royal sum to dispose of you."

"Wh… what?" Her voice shook just as much as her body.

He said back and smiled at her, cruelly. "Someone does not seem to like you, mousie. You will have a tragic accident. As soon as the bruises on your throat are healed."

"No! No, please…" Tears welled up in her eyes, and she tried to grab his hand.

Bishop swatted her hand away and leaned forward again, grabbing her hair, brutally pulling her head back.

"Shut up! Look at me!", he hissed.

She swallowed and blinked her eyes at him.

"Look closely! Do I look like I'd take pity?"

Tears slowly started to trickle down her cheeks while she stared at him, her eyes wide with fear and her head shaking almost imperceptibly.

"Right. I don't. If you think I have a heart you can move, you're mistaken. I don't have a heart. And if you start grating on my nerves by whining all the time, you will be very, very sorry. And you will wish I had simply killed you. Are we clear?"

She swallowed and tried to nod this time, still crying silently.

Reluctantly, Bishop retracted his hand from her hair. It felt so good to see her cowering before him, to have all this power over her. He knew that these feelings in fact were not for her, but it was tempting, so very tempting…

He could have his way with her, could do anything he wanted… had wanted to do for so long… could just imagine it was _her_…

No! No, he would not yield. Tempting it might be, but he would not let all those feelings he had fought so hard to kill rise again in him, would not let himself be weak again.

Alone for making him go through all this once more, the little mouse deserved to die. As she would in a couple of days. He'd just have to pull himself together until then.

He got up to his feet and went back to his sleeping place, picking up the bread and throwing her a piece.

"Eat", he said, putting the rest back into his pack.

Then he lay down on his blankets, staring up into the roof again.

He smiled grimly. So much had changed since the morning. But one thing he had proven again: He indeed was scum.

Well, what the hells. He'd be _rich_ scum soon.

He turned his head and looked at the girl who had curled up into a foetal position. The bread lay untouched next to her.

"Eat!", he said again.

She did not react.

"Little mouse", he said, very calmly. "I thought I had made myself clear. Do what I tell you. You really don't want me to get up again and force-feed you, believe me."

She sobbed once, but took the bread and bit a small piece out of it.

Bishop closed his eyes, but her image seemed to be burned on his eyelids. Angry with himself, he turned on his side, facing the wall.

"Good", he said, without looking at her. "When I get up and I find anything left of the bread, you'll regret it."

He stared at the wall, trying to tone out the small sobs that escaped her from time to time.

The next couple of days were going to be hell.


	4. Chapter 4 Walking through a Nightmare

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

The bread tasted like ash in her mouth.

Liliana forced herself to chew, and then swallowed, pressing her lips firmly together to keep herself from moaning at the searing pain that suddenly shot through her throat. But he had ordered her to be silent, and so she desperately tried her best to become almost invisible, while tears still streamed down her cheek and then down her neck.

When she had finally returned to consciousness, she had been nearly petrified with fear as she had found herself shackled to the wall of a shabby, wooden cabin somewhere in the woods. She had sat up, the chains around her ankle tinkling lightly, and had reached for her burning throat with a shaking hand, her wide-eyed gaze wandering around the small hut in fright.

First, she had thought the cabin to be abandoned. The windows were dirty and covered with cobwebs, just like the floor and the ceiling. The wind had blown dried leaves through the half-opened door, which were now gathering in disordered heaps close to the threshold, and there was no furniture despite a small, worm-eaten desk and a lopsided stool in the darkest corner of the hut, close to a small chimney that once seemed to have served as a fireplace, with a large iron pot dangling from a rusty chain.

Then she had noticed the backpack, armour and weapons leaning against the opposite wall, and with a terrible leap of her heart, she had suddenly realised that it had to be _his _belongings, and that this hut had to be some kind of hideout.

A shadow had fallen through one of the small windows, and then the door had opened with a loud creak, and he had stood in the doorframe, his lithe figure clearly outlined against the bright light of the sun. His hair and upper torso had been soaking wet, like he had just washed himself with his clothes on, and the waterdrops in his dark hair and on his skin had sparkled brightly as they had dripped onto the floor, while Liliana had stared up at him, her eyes wide with fear.

For a fleeting moment, as he had stood there in the bright light of the sun, his disheveled hair circling his head like a fiery halo, he had looked more like a creature of the woods than actually human - wild and untamed and terrifying, and she had truly feared that her heart would simply stop beating through sheer fright as he had entered the hut, casting her a long, piercing glance before finally turning his attention to his belongings, starting to lay out his bedroll.

She would never understand what had made her open her mouth and try to speak with him. It had been a sudden, urgent desire to understand what was going on, what was actually happening to her, and why, that had made her address him in a croaking voice despite the pain it induced in her throat, and Liliana now desperately wished that she had never tried.

She had been so angry as she had seen the bastard kneeling there, first ignoring her completely and then making fun of her brother and family while her throat had hurt like hell, that she hadn't been able to restrain herself. But the moment the curse had left her lips, she had known that she had made a grave mistake.

She had seen him tense at her cutting reply, a dangerous smile flickering across his face, and then he had gotten up, slowly crossing the room, and she hadn't been able to do anything but watch in growing alarm how he had stalked closer and closer, a strange light glowing in his eyes, and then had kneeled beside her to talk quietly into her ear.

The memory of his cool voice, low and threatening, was enough to make her shiver again, and for the first time, Liliana had truly realised that this was _really_ happening to her. She was here, out in the wilderness, chained to a wall, and completely at the mercy of the madman who was now whispering into her ear, his breath hot on her skin.

She had never felt so terrified before, and had desperately tried to shy away from him, but there simply hadn't been enough space - with her pressing her back so tightly against the wall and him trapping her effectively with his arm beside her head, and so she hadn't been able to do anything but stare up into his strange eyes, almost paralysed with fear.

Swallowing another piece of bread, she cast a quick glance at his silent form and saw him still lying on his bedroll with his back to her, unmoving, and her hands started to tremble uncontrollably as she remembered the feel of his hand, forcefully grabbing her hair, and how he had hissed into her ear, telling her what he was about to do to her.

_I don't believe him._

Of course he must have lied. Why would anyone pay a single coin to see her killed? It made no sense.

_He just made it all up. His mind must be damaged somehow, thinking that he will get paid for seeing me dead._

She remembered the way he had looked at her, standing there under the trees, like she had been some kind of ghost, and knew she was right. But on the other hand, that was not a truly encouraging thought, either.

_He said he won't kill me until the bruises around my throat are healed._

Which meant that her family had at least a couple of days left to find her. She had not lied when she had told her captor that her father was a very influential man. Sooner or later, they would find her, and everything would be alright again. Until then, she would have to do her best to make herself as invisible as possible, and to keep him from losing his temper with her again.

Which meant finishing her meal.

It was difficult, with the bread still tasting like ash and her throat hurting so much, but after a while, Liliana found that the pieces of bread were actually easier to swallow if she kept them in her mouth for a moment to let them soak with saliva, and slowly, she finished her unpleasant meal.

All the time that she fought to keep her stomach from revolting too much, her captor remained silent, lying on his bedroll with his back to her, and his breathing was slow and regular, as if he had fallen asleep.

Her tears had finally stopped flowing, and without thinking, Liliana lifted her hands to clean her face, and her heart beat frantically in her chest as she heard the chain give a soft, clanking noise at her sudden movement. She froze, her eyes wide as she stared at the man lying only a few feet away from her. But he did not move, and so she finally allowed herself to relax a little, her breath now coming in short gasps.

Maybe he _had_ fallen asleep, after all.

Carefully, she lifted the hem of her dress to cast a look at the ring that chained her to the wall, and her eyes widened even more as she saw that he had removed her shoes to fasten the shackle around her ankle.

_He touched me._

The thought made her feel sick all of a sudden, and although she tried her best to fight the images down into the darkest regions of her soul, she couldn't help but imagine her lying here on the ground, unconscious, while he towered above her, undoing the laces of her shoes, touching her calves with his bare hands while his fingers slowly wandered over her skin…

Suddenly, her stomach gave a sudden, forceful jerk, and she had to press both hands firmly over her mouth to keep herself from throwing up, and a painful moan escaped her lips as she felt bile searing her already sore throat, the chains clanking audible again.

"I would keep my hands away from the chains, if I were you."

At the sound of his deep, sneering voice, Liliana froze like a doe that had caught the scent of a predator in the air, and she felt the beat of her heart accelerating painfully again as she stared at him, her eyes wide.

"I… it's just that the chain is cutting into my flesh…", she stammered in a croaking voice, and she could feel her hands starting to tremble violently once more as she saw his shoulders actually tensing in the dim light.

"There's a simple trick to that, little mouse."

He turned around to stare at her with these bright, unusual eyes, his gaze cold and unfeeling, and it seemed to pierce her very soul as he addressed her in his sneering voice again, clearly pronouncing every single word.

"_Don't move_."

She hastened to nod, driven by an almost desperate desire to calm him down, and after another long stare, he finally turned his eyes away from her and lay back on his bedroll again, staring up at the ceiling.

The bile seemed to burn its way right through the sore skin of her throat, but Liliana did her best to ignore the searing pain and kept her mouth tightly shut, even as her body screamed for some water to clear her throat, but she simply sat there for a long time, her heart beating as fast as a koolibri's wings, until the pain finally became too much to bear.

"Do you… do you have some water for me, please?"

At the sound of her quivering voice, she saw him turn his head once more, his eyes now narrowed to slits, and frightened, she pressed her shivering back firmly against the wall as she saw a strange fire ignite in them, but the pain in her throat made her speak up even despite her fear while more tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision.

"Please, I promise to keep silent from now on, and that I won't make any trouble, but my throat feels so raw…"

Her voice finally gave out under the strain, and although Liliana tried to fight the sudden urge, she couldn't keep herself from coughing so violently that she actually feared to suffocate in the process. For a short while, he simply watched her struggles, his eyes still cold and unfeeling, until he finally got up with a hissing noise and reached for his backpack to rummage through its depths, his movements stiff and angry.

After a few moments of searching, he pulled a waterskin out of his bag and threw it in her direction, without giving her as much as a glance. The skin came to land only a few inches away from her feet, and Liliana reached for it with trembling hands, opening the skin and drinking thirstily.

The water was warm and tasted of leather, but for her burning throat, it was heaven.

She drank greedily, the feel of the liquid like balm on her sore skin, and then leaned forward to let the waterskin glide back across the wooden floor towards its owner again. She opened her mouth to thank him, but closed it hurriedly as she noticed the way his eyes narrowed dangerously to slits as soon as he saw her attempt to speak up again, and so she simply leaned back against the wall once more, her arms closed tightly around her knees, and waited, while more silent tears trickled down her face.

_Gods, this is like walking through a nightmare. Why can't I wake up?_

For what felt like an eternity, she simply sat motionlessly on the blankets, with her back firmly pressed against the wall, and watched with aching limbs how the light falling through the windows slowly wandered across the floor, indicating that the sun was nearing its zenith. All that time, her captor remained in his corner of the hut, still staring up at the dark ceiling and obviously deep in his thoughts, and for that, she was thankful.

But as noon wore on into late afternoon, she felt other, more basic needs try to attract her attention, and just like the sore throat, she fought them as long as she could, the memory of his piercing stare actually frightening enough to steel her resolve. But as her need finally became unbearable again, she imagined what he would do to her should she accidentally wet herself without saying so much as a word, and therefore decided to adress him despite her fear, her voice small and quivering audibly.

"Can I…"

"Don't try my patience, little mouse!"

His voice was barely more than an angry hiss, as if he was trying to speak through tightly gritted teeth, and she felt shivers of dread run down her spine as he actually propped himself up on one elbow to glare at her, the intensity of his amber stare more than a little terrifying.

"I'm sorry!", she whispered, mortified. "But I…" She felt her cheeks reddening with embarrassement, and for a fleeting moment, she truly did not know what to say. No well-born young lady would ever talk to a man about such things in public, let alone to such a shabby specimen like him. "I… I need to answer nature's call."

He threw back his head and laughed, and just like the first time, Liliana felt the hairs on her neck stand up as the harsh and cruel sound echoed through the cabin, and she winced, fighting the sudden desire to cover her ears with her hands. He shook his head, grinning slightly, and his voice sounded actually a little amused as he spoke.

"_To answer nature's call_? That what you rich floozies call it down in Waterdeep?"

Liliana suddenly felt as if all blood had drained from her face, and for a long, painful moment, she could do nothing but stare at him, her eyes wide, horrified. How could he know where she lived, if he was nothing but a madman living out here in the woods?

_He must have heard it while lingering in the shadows of our camp_, she desperately tried to convince herself, but couldn't help but notice that the thought seemed to lack a certain amount of conviction, and so she couldn't prevent a tight knot from forming in her belly, twisting painfully amidst her guts.

Her captor cast her an amused glance, the cool of his stare actually thawing a little, and his lips twitched as he gracefully got to his feet, amusement still very prominent in his voice.

"Well, now, we wouldn't want you to soil your pretty dress, now would we?"

With a few steps, he crossed the distance between them to kneel beside her again, and Liliana could feel her blood pounding painfully in her temples as she tried to retreat further against the wall, watching him in alarm as he slowly reached into a pocket of his breeches and then held out a rusty key, his voice alarmingly quiet.

"Listen carefully, little mouse. I will take this key here and then open the chain around your ankle."

She stared up into his unusual eyes, strangely hypnotised by the cool intensity of his gaze, and shivered as she felt his hot breath caressing the soft skin of her cheek.

"When the chain's gone, you will rise slowly to your feet and walk outside the hut, with me following close on your heels. No fast movements, no running, nothing that could give me the impression that you're actually planning on something as _suicidal_ as attempting to flee."

He almost casually lifted a hand, and she couldn't keep herself from flinching as he reached out to touch her hair, softly stroking her windswept curls, and she felt goosebumbs rise all over her body as he lowered his voice into that deep purr again, making her heart almost leap out of her chest in fright.

"Did I make myself clear, little mouse?"

She nodded, still staring up into his cool eyes, so very close now, and her mouth felt terribly dry all of a sudden as every cell in her body seemed to scream violently at his touch, her mind racing feverishly.

_You have no right to touch me! You're _scum_! Only Cedric has a right to touch my hair!_

He simply looked at her, his hand still softly stroking her silvery tresses, a strange expression on his face, and so Liliana hastened to nod a second time, her voice quivering ever so slightly as she did so.

"Yes."

He blinked, and for the length of a heartbeat, she thought to see something close to confusion flicker across his face before he finally turned away with a snarl, his voice surprisingly harsh all of a sudden.

"Good."

He leaned down to open the lock, and Liliana had to bite hard on her lower lip to keep herself from flinching again as his calloused hands touched the bare skin of her ankle. A soft, clicking noise, and then the ring clattered onto the wooden floor, the sound a little subdued by the layers of cloth that had been wound around the iron.

He stood, the key vanishing in his pocket once more, and then gave her a sharp nod with his head.

"Go."


	5. Chapter 5  Cat and Mouse

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Grinning, Bishop walked over to the girl and knelt down beside her. Answering nature's call. Priceless indeed. Prissy little princess.

He pulled out the key and decided to let her know what would happen if she tried anything stupid.

"Listen carefully, little mouse.", he said calmly. "I will take this key here and then open the chain around your ankle. When the chain's gone, you will rise slowly to your feet and walk outside the hut, with me following close on your heels. No fast movements, no running, nothing that could give me the impression that you're actually planning on something as _suicidal_ as attempting to flee."

He looked into her face to find her staring back at him with huge eyes. Once more he relished the fear he saw there. The slight trembling of her lips, the moist sheen in her eyes, like she was fighting tears... he loved it. So much power over her...

He could not resist reaching out a hand and had to stop himself from smiling when she flinched. Slowly, he ran his hand over her silken hair and felt her shiver.

"Did I make myself clear, little mouse?", he murmured, certain that he had.

She nodded, almost eagerly, desperately trying to appease him. Gods, he could get used to this.

And her hair felt so good under his fingers. He only wanted to go on running his hands through it, enjoying the feel of it. So soft, like cool silk. And her eyes, staring up at him, those deeply violet eyes, so familiar, so beautiful... so like her...

When she spoke, he had the feeling of being woken from a dream. He blinked his eyes, and then his mind started working again.

"Yes", she whispered, her eyes still huge and fixed on his face.

He ripped away his hand, angry at himself for letting himself be caught that easily.

"Good!", he snapped and opened the lock of the chains, taking care not to touch her more than could not be avoided. He got up and went over to his stuff, picking up her boots, throwing them to her.

"Put them on, and then go", he said sharply, with a flick of his head into the direction of the door.

She threw him an anxious glance and turned a bit, so he would not be able to see her feet and ankles while she slipped into her shoes and laced them up. He grinned derisively. Prissy.

When she got up and went to the door, he followed closely behind, as he had told her. She kept throwing him nervous glances over her shoulder, as if she expected him to attack her from behind. Could not blame her. Attacks from behind were certainly his style. Why risk fighting honourable, when a dagger in the back could do the job so much more easily?

He followed her through the door outside and to a small thicket nearby. As she pushed through the first of the bushes, her stupid dress catching on the twigs, he stopped.

"As good a place as any", he said. "Get it done, and let's get back."

She halted and fidgeted a little.

"What?", he asked, annoyed.

"I... I...", she stuttered.

He raised his eyebrows at her, and she swallowed and hurried to get to the point.

"Well, I... I can't. Not while...", she looked at him and blushed crimson.

Bishop rolled his eyes. "Oh, for the gods' sake. Fine then." He turned around, turning his back to her. "But remember not to try anything stupid, or I will make you regret it."

"Thanks", she whispered, and he heard a rustling of cloth, followed by a gentle splashing noise. A very long gentle splashing noise.

Bishop grinned again. Obviously, she had hesitated quite a bit before she dared to speak up. Oh, she _was_ afraid of him. As she should be, little nothing that she was.

Inadvertently, his thoughts wandered to another woman, outwardly so similar to the one behind him, but so very, very different in character. Riana never had been afraid of him. She had taken no cheek from him, and she had not once hesitated to put him into what she thought was his place. She had smirked at his threats and laughed at his temper.

How it had made him itch to see her defiance broken, to have his way with her, to force himself onto her and watch that amusement in her eyes turn into lust. To drive away the contempt on her face and make her feel the need instead, the same need that was burning him up inside.

Instead, he had to watch her give herself to the paladin...

The rustling of cloth and the noise of twigs scraping over the girl's dress brought him back to the present. He started to turn around when something connected sharply with his temple and everything went dark.

xxx

Liliana ran through the woods as if all the demons of the abyss were following close on her heels.

Branches scratched her face while the thick brambles of the undergrowth tore the cloth of her skirt apart, but she simply kept going, her heart beating like a drum as her desperation drove her onward, trying to get away from it all - from the hut, the woods, everything. Away from _him_.

She followed a small path between the trees that wound its way around the slope of a steep hill, and thanked the gods fervently for this opportunity to flee. Lady Luck had finally been smiling on her today, and she had promised herself to make the best of that gift.

While she hastened around the slope and then hurriedly made her way down towards the valley of a small brook, her mind wandered back to the moment in front of the hut when she had been kneeling between the bushes, feeling more humiliated than she had ever felt before in her whole life while she had done what they had come out to do, with him standing only a few feet away...

It had been then that her eyes had fallen upon the sturdy branch, half-buried under the leaves and twigs of the small thicket that surrounded the cabin, and Liliana had peeked over her shoulder to look at him, to see what he was doing. A part of her had truly expected him to have turned around again by now, to keep a close eye on her, no matter what he had promised in the beginning, and so she had actually been more than a little surprised to see him still standing there, with his back to her, staring at a point to his feet, obviously deep in his thoughts.

Her heart had started to beat faster than ever before, and slowly, she had reached for the branch, while her mind had been screaming hysterically _No, it's too risky! He will _hurt_ you if you try something like this, or even worse. It's too risky!,_ but the thought of spending hours, or maybe _days_, alone with him in the small cabin, only to get killed by him in the end, had been more than she had been able to bear, and so her desperation had driven her to such extreme measures.

With the branch in her shaking hand, she had stood and approached him, trying to conceal the piece of wood in the pleats of her skirt while her blood had been pounding deafeningly strong in her ears. He had not looked up at her, obviously still lost in his thoughts, and so Liliana had lifted the branch with both hands and had tried to hit him with all the strength she could muster, aiming for the back of his head.

He had turned then, sensing her closeness, and she had caught a glimpse of his bright amber eyes, looking at her, before the branch had connected sharply with his temple, and he had collapsed onto the ground, lying there with sprawled limbs and closed eyes, unmoving.

For a fleeting moment, she had simply stood there, the branch still in her hands, and had stared at his unconscious form, at first not able to believe that she had actually been successful in her attempt to knock him out. Then a strange feeling had welled up inside her, a kind of panicked joy, and she had let go of the branch and had simply turned around and started to run, driven by the desperate wish to bring as much distance between herself and him as possible, to regain her freedom.

xxx

Bishop groaned and opened his eyes. His head hurt like hell, and his mouth felt like sandpaper. He tentatively touched his temple and found a nasty lump. He winced and groaned again, sitting up, holding his head with both hands as his skull threatened to split. When the pain abated somewhat he looked around. The first thing he noticed was the sturdy branch lying next to him. The second thing he noticed was that the girl was nowhere in sight.

The bitch!

The little harpy had taken advantage of his turned back and clobbered him over the head. And she had run.

He felt fury rise in him in a hot wave as he got to his feet. He'd told her he'd make her regret it if she tried anything like this. And by the hells, he would. No more consideration and amiability from now on. No more Mr. Nice Guy. She would be very, very sorry. As soon as he caught her again.

He checked the ground and nearly laughed at what he saw. There was a trail of swept leaves leading into the trees, the impressions of her heels very visible in the middle. She had not even had the good sense to lift her skirts while she ran. Probably had been afraid some badger would get a peek at her ankles. Stupid little girl. Catching her would almost be too easy.

And he saw with grim satisfaction that the direction she had chosen would only lead her deeper into the woods. If she had taken another route, she might have been able to make it back to her friends, or to reach the small road that went by not too far from here. But like this...

Smiling cruelly, he went over to the well and pulled up a bucket of the cold water again, drinking slowly. No need to hurry. This prey was not going to avoid capture. His thirst sated, he returned to the hut, grabbed his scimitars and fastened the scabbards to his side. Briefly he considered donning his leathers or taking his bow, but decided against it. He would be much faster without them. And he probably would not need them. He did not want to shoot her, after all, and if he ever needed armour to protect himself from a little girl, it would be time to throw himself off a cliff instead of her.

When he was ready, he left the hut and started to follow her trail unhurriedly. He shook his head as he made his way through the trees. An ox would have been ashamed of leaving a track as visible as this.

And he could see she had been running full speed. She would have exhausted herself soon and then be considerably slower. And with that dress... the skirt alone had to slow her down, but she also wore a tight corsage that would not let her breathe properly.

Again he smiled cruelly. The little mouse would soon regret that she tried to get away. And he would make damn sure she would never try anything like that again. His eyes on the ground, he walked swiftly, but easily and soon had the satisfaction to see that he gained on her. Her steps were becoming irregular and she had started to drag her feet, a sure sign of tiredness.

The little mouse would not be running long...

xxx

Liliana reached the small brook and crossed it with a leap, glad to see that, due to the time of year, it was barely more than a streamlet. The hem of her dress touched the surface of the lively rippling water, but she simply kept moving, even as the wet cloth of her skirt touched the skin of her calves. She needed to keep running for as long as she could, knowing that he would finally reach consciousness again, and that he would most likely try to hunt her down when he did.

Could he follow her tracks? The thought made her heart flutter frighteningly fast once more. He sure looked like a woodsman, like one of the scouts her grandfather used to hire whenever he and his friends went hunting in the Cloak Woods every summer.

The thought of what he would do to her, should he ever catch up with her, was enough to send shivers of utmost terror down her spine, and for a while, her fear was all that kept her going, even as her feet and legs started to ache from the unusual strain and her breath started to come in short, painful gasps, forcing her to stop for a short break now and then because her bodice made her feel like she couldn't get enough air anymore.

Finally, she had to admit that she simply couldn't go on any longer, and forced herself to pause with her back leaning against the trunk of a tree, panting heavily and feeling a little dizzy after her strenuous run through the woods, pressing a hand on her stomach to calm the stitches in her side.

For a short while, Liliana could do nothing but lean against the tree, trying to calm her frantically beating heart and to stop herself from passing out. But as the tingling in her ears finally began to subside, her mind became more focused again, and she looked around, feeling another kind of panic grip her heart in a vice-like grip.

From which direction had she come? She couldn't really remember, as her vision had finally become a little blurry in the end, and now, as she stood amidst the large maple trees, the warm light of the late afternoon sun falling through the green canopy of leaves, and with no one but the birds in the trees to keep her company, every direction actually looked the same to her.

What was she supposed to do by nightfall, if she couldn't find a way back to her friends in time?

The thought of spending the night out here in the woods, all on her own, was almost as terrifying as thinking of _him_, but she did her best to fight her fear. She needed to stay focused somehow. Her panicky flight through the woods might have gained her a bit of a headstart, but now, she needed to think again, to make some kind of plan.

If she could find a way back to the cliffs, she could try to follow the coast line back to that grassy plateau where she had played _Catch the Shuttlecock_ with the girls this morning, and she was sure that she could find her way back to their camp from there.

She closed her eyes for a moment, the beating of her heart finally calming a little, as a voice suddenly echoed between the trees, the familiar sound making her almost jump out of her skin in fright.

"Little mouse…"

xxx

After another half hour of walking Bishop was getting really close. He slowed his steps and took care not to make any noise while walking. Soon, he could see a glimpse of blue ahead.

His lips curled into a predatory smile as he ducked into the bushes and circled around. The patch of blue did not move. Silently, he crept near enough to see her, leaning against a tree, a hand pressed at her stomach, obviously trying to catch her breath. He could hear her wheezing.

He snickered inwardly. That's what she got for wearing a fancy dress to the woods. Could have been a lesson to her, if she would not be dead before she could profit from the experience.

"Little mouse..." he softly called out, laughter in his voice.

Her head snapped up and she looked around, alarmed, but could not see him. With a squeak that lived up to her nickname she turned and ran, her long silvery hair trailing behind her.

Bishop laughed and started to chase her. This actually was fun. Maybe he should let her try to escape more often.

She ran as fast as she could, trying to shake him by switching directions abruptly. He followed her, still laughing, getting near enough to reach for her, and then letting her gain a bit when she dodged.

This was too much fun to end it swiftly.

In the end, he heard her breath come in gasps and saw her stumble on more than she ran, and knew she could not go on much longer.

Time to get down to business.

He leaped, catching her in his arms and pushing her to the ground, trying to immobilise her with the weight of his body.

But he seemed to have underestimated the strength the terror that ran through her gave her. She screamed and kicked like a fury and tried to scratch his face, aiming for the eyes. Cursing, he grabbed her hands and pulled them to the side, pressing his whole weight onto her to fix her to the ground.

With a hoarse cry of pure desperation she lifted her head and bit into his shoulder. Hard. It hurt like a bitch.

Bishop yelled and swiftly pulled her hands up over her head, switching her wrists into one hand, holding them in an iron grip. His free hand reached into her hair, grabbing it near her scalp and pulling viciously.

She moaned, but bit harder.

Bishop clenched his teeth against the pain. "Let go, little mouse", he gritted. "Let go, or I will rip every hair from your head."

She did not react, and he gave her hair another brutal pull. She whimpered and slowly relaxed her jaw. Her head following the pull of his hand in her hair, she let go and stared up at him, tears swimming in her eyes. Her breath was short and choppy.

Breathing heavily as well, Bishop lay on top of her, looking down into her face. "What did I tell you about trying to run, mousie?", he said, out of breath, but menacingly nevertheless.

She sobbed, and again the fear in her eyes was like an elixir. Still panting slightly, Bishop stared down at her, into these eyes. Riana's eyes. Riana's face. His heart constricted painfully, then started to beat fast. She was so close... so helpless. He could feel every curve of her body under his through the thin cloth of his shirt. It would be so easy to give in to the temptation... so easy to forget she was, in fact, not Riana. He could pretend it was _her_, could take her, take everything he had wanted for so long...

She sobbed once more, and her full, soft lips – Riana's lips – parted. "Please..", she whispered, staring pleadingly up at him.

The sight of her invitingly parted lips was just too much. To hell with everything!

With a hoarse groan his mouth captured hers in a hard, brutal kiss. His tongue roughly forced entrance and sought hers, tangling with it. Heat rose in him and he moaned, forgetting everything but the fact that he wanted her.

His hand let go of her hair and started to softly stroke her neck, his fingers playing with the short, silky hair there. His eyes closed, and without thinking about it, he let go of her wrists as well, searching for her hand and lacing his fingers with hers, squeezing gently.

Easing the pressure of his mouth on hers he still kissed her hungrily, his tongue playing with hers, trying to coax her to reply, while he felt like his blood had turned to fire in his veins. Her sweet, enticing smell was making his head swim. He moaned again, and his hand slid from the soft skin of her neck up into her hair, gripping it lightly, trying to pull her head back so he could deepen the kiss.

How he wanted her... Riana...

A whimper from her as he pulled her head back brought him back to his senses. He tore his mouth from hers, his breathing ragged, and stared down into Liliana's slightly unfocussed eyes.

Liliana's. Not Riana's. So similar. But not the same. Not the same. A copy, nothing more. A good copy, but a copy nonetheless.

He would never get what he craved most.

Frustration rose in him, closely followed by anger. Anger at himself, mostly. He had allowed himself to fall for it again. What a joke he was. A godsdamned, lovesick fool, falling to pieces because this nothing of a girl looked a bit like a woman he once fell for. A woman that wanted nothing to do with him.

Had the little mouse noticed his weakness? He could not afford for her to see the chink in his armour.

So he forced his face into a mocking sneer and grinned down on her, even if grinning made his face ache. He tightened his grip on her hair again, and she winced.

"This was just a small taste of what is in store for you if you cross me again, little mouse", he said, his voice low and menacing, if still a little hoarse. Hopefully she would be too frightened to notice. "I'm not to hurt you so anyone can see, but no one said I can't have some fun with you, understood?"

He pressed his lower body into her, to let her feel him, to make sure she understood what he meant by _fun_.

"Next time, I'm not going to stop. This is the last time I'm playing at gentleman. Are we clear?"

She nodded, her eyes wide and her breath still irregular.

"Good", he said, slowly and reluctantly lifting his weight from her. The motion made his shoulder hurt like hell. He stood, staring down at her, still lying on the ground motionlessly, a dazed look on her face.

"Get up already", he snapped. "Before I get down again!"

She flinched and hastily climbed to her feet, starting to try and pat the dirt from her dress.

Bishop stepped behind her and roughly shoved her into the direction of the hut.

"Stop preening and get going. None of your fancy friends around here to swoon at the sight of a bit of dirt. And we don't have all day while you spruce yourself up. So this way, princess!"

xxx

"Little mouse…"

For a fleeting moment, Lily's heart seemed to freeze in her chest, before it started to beat frantically once more, the blood in her veins turning to ice. She whirled around, alarmed, but could see no one. Had she just imagined his voice? But then she heard his amused laughter echo through the trees, and the first wave of a panic so intense welled through her that, for a moment, she actually feared that she would simply faint from the sheer intensity of her fear, and with a small, desperate cry, she started to run for it, her thoughts racing frantically in her mind.

She could hear his amused laughter following her as she ran through the woods, her blood pounding strongly in her ears, and her heart almost stopped in fright as she felt his hand suddenly reach for her left arm. She dodged to the right, desperately trying to get away from him, but in her panicked state, she did not see the root on the ground until it was too late, and as she stumbled, he was already upon her, catching her in his arms and pushing her to the ground, his weight upon her actually pressing the air out of her lungs.

But as soon as he touched her, Liliana felt something snap inside her, and in her panicked state, she simply started to fight and kick and scratch at every part of him she could reach, her fear miraculously multiplying her strength. She heard him curse under his breath while he shifted his weight, so that he could effectively trap her legs with his body before he grabbed her hands to pull them away from his face, and with a hoarse cry of pure desperation, she lifted her head and bit into his shoulder as hard as she could, feeling a strange kind of satisfaction as she heard him yell in response.

With a rough movement, he lifted her hands over her head to grab them both at their wrists before he buried his free hand into her hair. A searing pain shot through her scalp as he viciously pulled at her tresses, but she only bit harder, even as a pained whimper escaped her lips.

She felt him shift his weight again, and then he hissed into her ear, his hand still in her hair.

"Let go, little mouse."

The pain in her scalp made her eyes swim with tears, but at the sound of his voice, she only bit harder, unwilling to give in. He groaned and tightened his grip on her hair, his voice now sounding actually a little strained as he went on.

"Let go, or I will rip every hair from your head."

As if to underline his words, he brutally pulled at her hair again, and finally, the hurt was simply too much to bear. With a pained moan, Liliana let go of his shoulder and lay back her head, looking up into his angry face. She could see a red lump forming where her branch had hit him on the temple, and her blood ran cold as she saw his eyes narrow dangerously to slits, glaring at her trapped form.

"What did I tell you about trying to run, mousie?", he said, breathing heavily, and the menacing undertone of violence in his voice was enough to make her shiver with fright. He looked ready to murder someone, and she felt a small sob escape her lips as she looked up into his cold, unfeeling eyes, her fear forming a tight knot in her belly.

"Please…", she whispered, her eyes pleading with him.

_Please, don't hurt me. Please, let go of me._

At her softly whispered words, she saw a strange expression flicker across his face, setting his amber eyes on fire, and with a hoarse groan, he suddenly bent down and forced his lips upon hers in a hard and brutal kiss.

Liliana did not know what she had expected of him. Feeling his anger radiate in hot waves from his body, she had imagined him to beat her, or maybe throttle her again to see her suffocate, at least something to cause her pain. But to have his lips now pressed almost painfully on hers, while his tongue invaded her mouth, was more of a shock as if he had actually tried to beat her up, and she could feel every muscle in her body tense as she lay there beneath him, her heart beating fast while her mind screamed hysterically at her.

_Oh merciful gods, please, help me, you cannot let him touch me like this…_

With a moan, he loosened his hold on her hair and let his hand wander slowly from her head to softly strike the skin of her neck, the unexpected touch making goosebumbs rise all over her body. She saw him close his eyes as he deepened his kiss, and as his hand let go of her wrists, she half-expected him to tear the bodice of her dress apart, so that he could force himself upon her. But to her utmost surprise, he simply reached up for her hand to lace his fingers gently with hers, the tenderness of the gesture actually startling her.

_What…_

His scent invaded her nostrils, reminding her of earth and leaves and sun, with a distracting, musky undernote to it - intense, but not unpleasant, and she was startled and a little surprised how different he smelled compared to the men she knew.

Even when they were alone, Cedric preferred to wear perfume, and although she had always liked the one he had chosen, he simply smelled… clean, of water and soap and aftershave. _His_ scent had something wild, animalistic in his unadulterateness, something that actually made a part of her respond to it despite all the fear and disgust she felt at his touch, and somehow, that realization frightened her even more than the feel of his lips on her mouth or the grazing of his coarse stubble on the soft skin of her face.

He moaned again, deep in his throat, and reached for her hair to pull back her head, but her scalp was still hurting from his former treatment, and so she couldn't suppress a soft whimper escaping her lips at his passionate touch. She felt his body tense, and then he broke the kiss to stare at her face, his breathing ragged, that strange fire still burning strongly in his eyes.

For the length of a heartbeat, they just stared at each other, his breath hot on her cheek. Then a strange emotion flickered across his face, the fire in his eyes slowly fading away, and Liliana felt more shivers of dread run down her spine as his lips suddenly curled into a thin and cruel smile.

"This was just a small taste of what is in store for you if you cross me again, little mouse", he said, his voice low and threatening, but with a strange undercurrent, and he tightened his grip on her hair again, making her wince in the process. "I'm not to hurt you so anyone can see, but no one said I can't have some fun with you, understood?"

She felt him pressing his lower body into her, and her eyes widened as she noticed the hard bulge now pressing against her thigh, the tone of his voice making her shiver.

"Next time, I'm not going to stop. This is the last time I'm playing at gentleman. Are we clear?"

_Oh gods!_

She nodded, her eyes now wide with fear and her breathing ragged as the thought made her stomach churn violently once more.

"Good", was all he said as he finally stood up, staring down at her with an unreadable expression on his face and no hint of the fire that had burned in his unusual eyes only a few heartbeats ago.

"Get up already", he growled. "Before I get down again!"

She flinched, the thought of him holding her so intimately again actually enough to startle her out of her shell-shocked state, and so she hastened to climb to her feet, her head now spinning a little after her fast movement. She desperately tried to avoid his piercing stare, and therefore let her gaze wander over her dress instead, noticing the dirt and leaves that now ruined the formerly exquisite cloth, and she shuddered as she carefully reached up for her hair, feeling all the knots and leaves and small twigs there. She even started to try and pat the worst dirt off her skirt, but he simply stepped up behind her with an impatient growl and roughly shoved her down the path, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Stop preening and get going. None of your fancy friends around here to swoon at the sight of a bit of dirt. And we don't have all day while you spruce yourself up. So this way, princess!"


	6. Chapter 6  Igniting the Flame

The way back to the hut was like walking through a nightmare again.

Liliana made her way over the hills with aching limbs, actually limping rather than walking, and the muscles in her legs and feet were burning like fire while a sharp, throbbing pain began to spread through her temples, making her want to wince with every step she took.

He followed her close on her heels, shoving her roughly whenever she needed to change her direction, his anger still radiating strongly from his tense form. Whenever she cast him a glance out of the corner of her eye, she could see him stalking behind her with a dark and foreboding expression on his face, now and then reaching up with one hand to absentmindedly massage the spot on his shoulder where she had bitten him, and his eyes narrowed so dangerously whenever he caught her staring at him that she quickly averted her gaze, concentrating her attention on the path before her until they finally reached the hut again.

He grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip as soon as they crossed the threshold, forcing a pained yelp out of her while he dragged her roughly towards the chains in the wall, and with another forceful shove, he made her fall down on her knees, and his voice was an angry growl as he spoke.

"Take off your shoes."

Liliana hastened to comply, trying to open the laces with shaking hands, but in her exhausted and panicked state, she just fumbled with the knots rather than undoing the laces. She heard an impatient growl escape his lips, and then he kneeled in front of her, reaching for her half-opened shoes and forcefully pulling them off her feet, making her yelp in pain again.

As soon as he let go of her legs, Liliana pulled them near to close her arms around her knees, trying to retreat as far against the wall as possible. He followed her and reached with one hand for her neck, pulling her sharply towards him, and her heart started to beat frantically again as she saw the look in his eyes.

"I will have a short look around, see if I can find some wood that's actually dry enough to use for the chimney.", he growled, his voice harsh, hinting at the anger that still seemed to be raging strongly inside him.

He stared at her with his cold, unfeeling eyes, and Liliana shivered again as she felt him tightening his grip around her neck, wondering for a long, painfully frightening moment if he was debating right now whether he should break it or not. His hand started to slowly stroke her soft skin, and his voice became even deeper as he asked her in a mockingly light tone.

"You know what I'm about to say to you now, don't you, mousie?"

She gulped, trying to fight her fear, but couldn't keep her voice from shaking.

"Don't worry, I… I won't make any trouble."

His eyes seemed to pierce her with their burning stare, and his voice was low and menacing as he spoke.

"Good. Don't forget what will happen if you do…"

For the length of a heartbeat, his eyes wandered deliberately from her face to her neck-line, and Liliana couldn't keep herself from shuddering as she understood the threat behind this meaningful glance. She shook her head fervently, deliberately avoiding his eyes while a part of her was wishing desperately now that she had followed Nerdanel's lead and had chosen a different kind of dress this morning, feeling so terribly naked and vulnerable all of a sudden.

His hand continued to stroke the soft skin of her neck, and then slowly began to follow the rim of her neck-line, down to her collar-bone… but then she felt him tensing all of a sudden, and with a vicious-sounding curse, he stood up to walk swiftly over the wooden planks towards the door of the hut, his pace still stiff and angry. She heard the door creak on its hinges, and then he was gone, and Liliana buried her face in her hands, trying to muffle the sound of her sobs as her tears started to flow freely again.

Oh merciful gods, please, release me from this nightmare… 

After a while, her tears finally ebbed away, and as Liliana lifted her still shaking hands to rub her face, her eyes suddenly fell on the dolphin ring on her left hand, now covered with dirt. With a hasty move, she pulled the ring from her finger and started to clean it frantically on her dress until it was shining and sparkling again. The sight of the ring alone was enough to miraculously ease her pain, and as she slipped it back on her hand, she felt the warm feeling of hope spread through her, helping her to clear her mind.

Somewhere, Cedric and her family were looking for her now. Sooner or later, they would find her, and until then, she had to fight her fear and try to keep her mind focused, had to try to play by his rules to keep him from hurting her or…

No! Don't think about it! 

But almost instantly, the images returned unbidden to her mind - he, lying on top of her, his lips on her mouth, moaning longingly, and his one hand caressing the soft skin of her neck, while the other…

The sound of an axe connecting sharply with wood echoed loudly through the shabby cabin and made her almost jump out of her skin in fright. The sound came again, and Liliana suddenly realised that he must have started to chop wood for the chimney, just like he had told her.

Liliana listened to the rhythmical sound of the axe, and frowned. She had watched Miller and the other man servants of her family chopping wood long enough to know that he was using the axe very fast, and with much more verve than he needed to chop the wood.

A part of her knew that she should be glad that he was venting his anger on the wood instead of her, but the knowledge couldn't do much to ease her troubled mind. The memory of his usually cold, amber eyes, burning with fury, was still enough to make her shiver, but Liliana let her newfound feeling of hope and confidence help her fight her fear. She would be rescued, she had no doubt about that. But until then, she had to keep her head down, had to try and smooth things over between them, until she would finally be free of him again…

The door creaked ominously on its hinges, and then he entered the hut, carrying an armload of wood in his arms, his cheeks slightly flushed and sweaty from the exhaustion. He passed her without casting her as much as a glance, putting down the logs beside the fireplace, and then turned around to stare at her again, the expression on his face still dark and foreboding.

"I don't think you know how to start a fire, princess?"

Maybe it was the sneering tone of his voice, or the disdainful look on his face, but something about his last words ignited a simmering anger deep inside her chest, and so Liliana felt her shoulders stiffen with indignation as she replied, her own voice sounding surprisingly sharp all of a sudden.

"My grandfather has a hunting lodge in the Cloak Woods, near Baldur's Gate. He showed me how to make a fire when I was a little girl."

He snorted.

"A hunting lodge. Well, what else.", he replied derisively, and Liliana's shoulders stiffened even more as she saw his eyebrows lift in mock surprise. Who did he think he was, treating her like she was nothing but a spoiled child who couldn't be trusted to handle even the simplest tasks? He walked over to the place where he had laid down his belongings, and rummaged through his backpack until he pulled out a small leather pouch, and his voice was still mockingly sweet as he threw the bag in her direction, its contents clinking ominously in the process.

"Fine, then. Show me what you've learned about making a fire, mousie."

And with that, he simply stood and walked back towards the door of the hut. He turned as he reached the threshold, the light of the setting sun circling his head like a halo once more, but there was an undertone to his teasingly light voice that made her shiver.

"By the way, should I catch you trying to lay a hand on my bow or quiver…", here he cast her neck-line another meaningful glance, which sent another wave of terrified shivers down her spine, "well, you know what will happen then."

And with that, he turned around and left the hut. She heard him move around the building and huffed, anger and fear now mingling confusingly strong in her chest as she reached for the pouch, only to find flint, steel and tinder in it. Oh, she would show that arrogant prick how to make a fire!

The wood smelled musty, as if it had been stored in a dark, damp hovel for quite some time, but it was dry, and after she had removed the heavy iron pot from its chain in the chimney, Liliana took her time to set up the single logs like tentpoles, while the sound of the axe began to echo through the hut again, showing that he had truly started to chop more wood.

There was no touchwood around, and so she gathered some handfuls of the dried leaves and twigs from the ground to use them as a first hearth to nourish the sparks she would strike up from the steel.

Her stomach gave a sudden, grumbling sound, and her gaze wandered hesitatingly from the wood to his backpack, her hunger gnawing at her. For a long moment, she listened intently to the sound of the axe. Then, with a furtive glance towards the door, she quickly made her way across the wooden floor to kneel beside his bedroll, her mind screaming at her to go back to the chimney, but the hunger drove her forward.

_He did not tell me to keep away from his backpack_, she tried to calm herself as she opened the laces with trembling hands and started to carefully rummage through its depths, looking for his provisions. Her hands closed around the bread, her stomach giving a another loud, grumbling sound, and for a moment, she truly fought with herself whether she should eat a small piece to assuage her hunger, but then her common sense finally kicked in.

He was bound to find out that she had laid a hand on his backpack when she ate another piece of bread, and as she really did not want to know what he was going to do to her if he did, she finally let go of the bread with a sigh, her stomach churning painfully, and as she pulled her hand out of the bag, her fingers touched a large piece of parchment that had been hidden under his provisions. She raised her eyebrows in surprise, her curiosity sparked by her mysterious find. He did not seem the reading type to her, and so she carefully lifted the parchment out of the knapsack, holding it in her trembling hands.

For the length of several heartbeats, she paused to listen intently to the regular sound of the axe before she carefully unrolled the parchment, her curiosity finally getting the better of her. There was a soft chiming noise, and a locket fell out of the parchment and into her lap, masterfully crafted and with a long, silver chain.

She lifted it with trembling hands, surprised that someone like him had such a valuable-looking piece of jewelry in his possession, and then cast another curious glance at the parchment. It seemed to be a kind of map, the ink old and fading, and strangely enough, it seemed to be written in elvish and dwarvish runes, another artifact that she had never expected to find with a man like him.

There was a word written across the centre of the map, and Liliana lifted the parchment a little closer to her eyes to try and read the elvish runes.

_Merdelain._

The slow-marching Court. The word sounded somewhat familiar, but not familiar enough to stir a memory. There was a small note on one side of the map, written in an elegant writing, and Liliana held the piece of parchment even closer to the light, trying to decipher the inscription.

_Bishop-_

_I thought you might find this useful._

_Riana_

There was something strangely familiar about that last name as well, a woman's name, but it was the first word that suddenly caught her attention, making more shivers run down her spine, but now in a strange kind of panicked excitement.

Bishop.

Finally, she could put a name to her mysterious captor, and somehow, that simple fact was enough to ease her fear a bit, as if he had become more real now, a person instead of a phantom - still dangerous, but more human somehow and therefore not so terribly frightening anymore.

Now that her curiosity had been ignited, Liliana carefully put the parchment away and lifted the locket on its silver chain, studying it closely. It was small, not much larger than the back of her thumb, and decorated with beautifully engraved ivy runners, hinting at the silversmith's excellent craftsmanship.

She turned the locket admiringly in her fingers, and saw that there was an inscription on its back, the words so small that she could barely read them in the dim light.

_Forever yours,_

_Riana _

She stopped, and her eyes widened in astonishment as she stared at the jewelry in her hand in utmost disbelief. The thought that there was actually a woman in all Faerun who would give a token of her love to a man like him was more than bizarre, and carefully, she tried to open the locket, wondering what such a woman would look like…

A loud, chopping sound made her almost jump out of her skin, and she froze with her hands around the locket, listening intently while her heart started to beat frantically in her chest. But the chopping continued, and so Liliana hastened to roll up the locket in the parchment once more, before she shoved it back into his bag, closing its laces with trembling hands.

What had she been thinking? The thought of what he would do to her, should he ever catch her with her nose in his possessions, and such private possessions on top of that, was enough to make her whole body tremble violently, and so she hastened to pick up the pouch with flint and steel and went back to the chimney, forcing her attention to return to the wood and her attempt to get a fire going.

It had been a while since she had made her last fire, and so it took her some time, but finally, she leaned back, feeling strangely pleased with herself as she watched the merrily crackling flames in the chimney, relishing the warmth that now spread through her aching limbs.

"Not bad for a prissy little princess such as you."

She jumped at the sound of his deep voice, for the crackling of the fire had covered the sound of his steps, and Liliana turned around, her anger returning almost instantly as she heard the mocking undertone in his voice - and couldn't keep herself from inhaling sharply as she looked towards the door and saw him there, still standing in the doorway.

Chopping wood was a strenuous work, and so he must have pulled off his tunic at one point, for he was now holding it loosely in one hand, his naked chest glittering in the light of the setting sun and offering her a good look on his tanned, well-shaped body, the place where she had bitten him clearly visible on his shoulder. He seemed to have washed himself after his sweaty work, for his hair was wet again, and she could see single droplets of water run down his chest, following the line of his taut muscles and then down to his well-trained stomach…

Her cheeks suddenly felt like they had caught fire, and she quickly averted her eyes, her pulse pounding strongly in her ears. What had she been thinking, staring at him like that? And what had _he_ been thinking, returning to the hut in such an inappropriate way?

She heard him throw the tunic in the direction of his backpack and leave the hut again, only to return a few moments later, carrying more logs in his arms. Liliana quickly fled to her corner of the wall, clearing the way for him, and her grip around the small leather pouch tightened unconsciously as she watched him lower the logs onto the ground, the view of his broad, naked back and the sight of his muscles, rippling powerfully under his skin, making her feel strangely uncomfortable all of a sudden.

He stood, and she quickly averted her gaze again, the feeling of sudden discomfort actually intensifying as she heard him coming towards her, his voice set in its usual sneer.

"The pouch?"

She quickly shoved the bag in his direction, but tried her best not to look at him, her cheeks still flaming red. No man with the _slightest_ bit of decency would ever have the nerve to present himself in such a way in front of a woman! She heard him bend and pick up the pouch before he stopped in his tracks, staring at her, and the sudden sound of his amused laughter ignited in her the desperate wish to make herself truly invisible, knowing that he had finally discovered the source of her discomfort.

"What, mousie, have you never seen a man before?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him saunter closer towards her, the light of the fire reflecting dangerously in his amber eyes while his catlike moves reminded her strongly of a predator, circling his prey, and the sound of his purring voice sent another wave of shivers down her spine.

"Or do you just _like_ what you see, and that's what got you all hot and bothered?"

At these words, her head snapped up, and she glared at him even despite her fear, her sudden anger making her voice sharp and steady once more.

"Don't flatter yourself, you have _nothing_ I haven't seen before!"

He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, his cold eyes now alight with amusement, and lazily lifted one hand to caress her cheek, and for the first time, Liliana was too angry to be afraid of his touch.

"That so?", he said with a crooked smile, and then leaned a little closer to purr softly into her ear.

"Tell me, mousie, has dear Cedric been giving it to you good?"

His scent invaded her nostrils again, rich and heady, and she felt heat rush into her cheeks, but whether it was from anger or embarrassment, she couldn't tell, and her voice became even sharper as she made a disgusted face.

"You're _despicable_!"

He chuckled, his hand still stroking her cheek, amusement now very prominent in his voice.

"You wound me, princess.", he said, mock hurt in his voice. "I guess that was a "no" to my question. Can't say I'm surprised. Your Cedric struck me as the boring kind."

She stared at him, seething, and the look of the arrogant smile on his face made her itch to slap him on the face. How _dare_ he say such things about a man like Cedric, miserable, worthless thug that he was?

"I would offer to show you what a real man can do – but then again _you_ have nothing _I_ have not seen a hundred times before as well, mousie."

And with these words, he let go of her and walked back towards his corner of the hut, reaching for a new tunic from his backpack and starting to pull it over his head. She watched him go, and felt a sudden, irresistable desire to throw something at him, just to wipe that arrogant smile from his face, while her anger was still simmering strongly inside her chest, getting sick of the poor little nicknames he had chosen for her. Why couldn't he speak her name, just once, and acknowledge that she was a real person, someone who lived and breathed, and not just a _thing_ that he had chained to a wall for his amusement?

"My name is Liliana.", she replied icily.

She heard him chuckle again, the sound a little muffled through the thin cloth of his tunic, and his voice sounded still highly amused as he replied.

"Oh, I know. How fitting. A flower, just as prissy, fragile and useless as you are. Good for nothing but decoration."

She never knew what made her do it in the end. But at the sight of this _prick_ standing before her, daring to throw one caustic reply after another in her direction, and that after a day of hunger, fear and exhaustion, made the anger inside her well up in hot, strong waves, and so Liliana couldn't keep herself from lifting her chin and replying haughtily.

"You know, for someone with a lifestyle such as yours, I would be very careful before I allowed me to judge people by their names, _Bishop_."

The moment the words had left her lips, Liliana knew that she had let herself get carried away too far. She saw his shoulders tense at her angry reply before his head snapped around, and there was an expression on his face that made the blood in her veins run cold. He slowly made his way back towards her, his graceful moves and unusual eyes reminding her uncomfortably of a predator again, and his voice was deadly calm as he spoke.

"What did you just say, little mouse?"


	7. Chapter 7  Useless Flower

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

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The anger – mostly at himself – still churning in his stomach, Bishop left the hut, to have a look in the shed leaning against it. He had ignored it up to now, but maybe there was something useful to find in there.

Like dry wood.

He opened the low, creaking door and stepped into the musty room behind. He blinked a couple of times, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom inside. There were no windows, and the air was hot and stifling. The only light inside was that filtering through the gaps between the rough planks the shed was made of, and that coming through the open door behind him.

Bit by bit, he could make out the contents of the shed. The first thing that caught his eye was a strange contraption, consisting of a large copper container over a fireplace, from which a glass tube led straight upwards for a bit, then bending to the right, still angling slightly upwards. Then there was a sharp bend, and the glass tube led downwards, through another container that looked like a large metal bucket... and under that into a large, bellied glass flask.

A distillery.

Very, very interesting.

Throwing the girl's boots into a corner, he looked around, taking in the rest of the contents of the shed. There were a couple of shelves, covered with coarse curtains. A small workbench, containing several tools that might come in handy. Looking closer, he saw that the workbench consisted of a rough board, placed over what looked like a wooden tub.

He lifted the board, careful not to drop the tools, and peered under it. Yes, a tub. Good to know.

And last, there was wood, stacked to one end of the shed. Before that, a wooden block with an axe sticking out of it.

Perfect.

Bishop went over to the shelves, drawing aside the curtain covering it and found the remnants of food supplies the previous owner seemed to have left behind. Shrivelled apples and potatoes – anything but fresh, but maybe still edible. The hut really could not have been abandoned for long. He wondered once more what might have happened to whoever had lived here.

He checked the second shelve and was greeted by the twinkling of glass. Now, that really was interesting. He took out one of the bottles and held it against the light flowing through the still open door.

No label, and the liquid inside was colourless.

He drew the cork with his teeth and sniffed cautiously. A strong aroma of alcohol and berries hit his nose. A slow smile spread across his face as he sniffed again. Who'd have thought the shed would hold such a treasure?

Still cautious, he took a small sip and tasted it carefully. His grin broadened. Nice, really nice. The liquid had some bite, but not enough to kill the aroma of the wild berries it obviously was made of.

The prospect of having to spend the next couple of days in the company of the spoiled princess next door suddenly seemed less grim than before.

He put the cork back into the bottle and carefully put it onto the makeshift workbench. He would get back to that later. Now, he had himself some wood to chop.

As he made his way to the wood stacked on the other wall, a sob reached his ear, drifting through the back wall of the shed that actually was also the back wall of the hut. He suppressed a growl as his thoughts, shortly diverted by his find, returned to the obviously crying girl.

And to what he had done when he caught her after running away. His anger, forgotten for a moment, returned full force, thinking back at the way he had nearly lost his head over her.

How could he have allowed himself to be overcome by his weakness like that? How could he have risked handing her the perfect weapon against him? He felt like slapping himself. Stupid, weak, pathetic, that's what he was. He had made a complete fool out of himself.

Well, no more, that he swore to himself as he jerked the axe out of the wooden block. He would not give her another opportunity to find his weak spot and have the last laugh on him.

He placed the first log on the block and brought the axe down with a vengeance. The wood splintered and flew aside. He picked it up and placed it back, hacking away at the wood with more force than was strictly necessary, but it felt so good to be able to vent his fury on _something_.

He somehow lost track of time, just grimly enjoying the exertion, the whacking sound of the axe and the splintering of the wood, so that he actually was surprised to find, after a while, that a considerable pile of firewood was building up next to the wooden block.

Bishop placed the axe back on the block, picked up the wood and carried it back to the hut, noticing that the sun would set soon. They would need more firewood, but in maybe an hour, it would be too dark to use the axe safely.

He entered the hut, ignoring the flinching girl in the corner, and put the wood down next to the fireplace.

"I don't think you know how to start a fire, princess?", he sneered, turning to her. Because, if she could – for which the odds were slim indeed, he could use the rest of the light to chop more wood.

There was a spark of defiance in her usually fear filled eyes. "My grandfather has a hunting lodge in the Cloak Woods, near Baldur's Gate. He showed me how to make a fire when I was a little girl.", she declared haughtily.

He lifted his eyebrows in mock surprise. "A hunting lodge. Well, what else." Ignoring her angry face, he rummaged through his backpack and pulled out the pouch containing the flint and steel, throwing it vaguely in her direction.

"Fine, then. Show me what you've learned about making a fire, mousie.", he said, still mocking her.

He went back to the door, turning back to her once more. "By the way, should I catch you trying to lay a hand on my bow or quiver…", he cast her a meaningful glance, letting his gaze linger on the plunging neckline of her dress for a moment, "well, you know what will happen then."

She flinched, the fear back in her eyes, and he left the hut with the comforting feeling that she would not dare to try anything stupid anymore. He might have made a fool out of himself in the woods, but luckily the little mouse hat not noticed. And he himself had found the perfect threat to keep her on her toes in the process. Things were looking up.

Returning to the shed, he found the air still as stifling as before. His shirt was already soaked with sweat, and he pulled it over his head with disgust and placed it on the workbench.

Maybe he could force the little mouse to wash his clothes. Why shouldn't she try and make herself useful for the time they had to stay here?

He continued to chop wood until he had produced a pile that would get them through the next one or two days. He felt hot and uncomfortable as he put aside the axe, thick beads of sweat rolling from his forehead and his neck. But at least he had worked off his anger.

He went outside, relishing the comparably cool air outside the shed and pulled up another bucket of water from the well. He splashed the heated skin of his arms and shoulders, and then poured what was left over his shoulders and back to rinse away the sticky sweat. Oh, bliss. He pulled a second bucket and washed his face, then unceremoniously dumped it over his head, rinsing his hair.

Feeling clean and relatively cool, he returned into the hut. Indeed, there was a fire crackling in the fireplace, the girl sitting before it, her back turned to him.

"Not bad for a prissy little princess such as you.", he said, mocking her.

She looked around and inhaled sharply, but he ignored her, throwing his shirt onto his sleeping place and then making it back outside, to get the rest of the wood. Returning to the hut, he stacked it as cleanly as possible next to the fireplace.

That done, he got up, turning to the girl, who had retreated to her corner again. Approaching her, he asked: "The pouch?"

She shoved it over to him, letting it slide across the floor with a slightly trembling hand, not looking up.

Well, he had not been _that_ scary right now, hadn't he? He bent and picked up his pouch, throwing a glance at her – and noticed her cheeks were flaming red.

Well, now. The little miss wasn't scared... she was embarrassed! This promised fun.

He chuckled. "What, mousie, have you never seen a man before?", he asked, tauntingly.

Advancing slowly, he let his voice drop into a low purr and added: "Or do you just _like_ what you see, and that's what got you all hot and bothered?"

Her head suddenly snapped up, and she shot him a poisonous glance, even though her cheeks were still flaming. "Don't flatter yourself, you have _nothing_ I haven't seen before!", she hissed.

He crouched down next to her and reached out to stroke her cheek, and for the first time she did not flinch under his touch. A show of spirit? This could get interesting.

„That so?", he replied, leaning closer, bringing his lips to her ear. "Tell me, mousie, has dear Cedric been giving it to you good?", he murmured.

He was near enough to kiss that soft spot under her ear, just one little inch to cross. Her sweet smell beckoned to him, and he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, feeling his pulse pick up.

"You're _despicable_!", she hissed, bringing his mind back to the present.

He chuckled again, his thumb running over the smooth skin of her cheek. "You wound me, princess.", he said, mock hurt in his voice. "I guess that was a "no" to my question. Can't say I'm surprised. Your Cedric struck me as the boring kind."

He took his hand away and got up. "I _would_ offer to show you what a real man can do – but then again _you_ have nothing _I_ have not seen a hundred times before as well, mousie."

He turned and started to walked back to his bedroll, took a fresh shirt out of his backpack and pulled it over his head, when her voice reached his ear again.

"My name is Liliana!", she said, icily.

He laughed, fully enjoying goading her on. "Oh, I know. How fitting. A flower, just as prissy, fragile and useless as you are. Good for nothing but decoration."

"You know, for someone with a lifestyle such as yours, I would be very careful before I allowed me to judge people by their names, _Bishop_.", she hissed.

He froze in his tracks, his head snapping around.

"What did you just say, little mouse?", he asked, his voice deadly calm.

How had she found out his name? The minx... he glanced over at his knapsack. Was it in the same position he left it in? He could not tell.

His gaze returned to the little mouse, who, the show of bravado having left her, tried to melt into the wall behind her, the fear back in her eyes. Oh, she knew that it had been a mistake, letting that slip.

"What did you just call me?", he repeated, low and deceptively sweet.

"I... nothing", she stuttered, her face white as a sheet.

He took some steps back to her, dropped to his knees again and with one quick motion, grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. She yelped, as her scalp was probably still hurting from the rough treatment it had received earlier that day. Well, tough.

"Did you search my stuff, little mouse? And you better not lie to me now."

Her eyes were glistening with tears, and she tried to blink them away. "Yes", she whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I will never do it again!"

"Damn right you won't!", he said viciously, shaking her head, and she moaned with the pain. "What did you see? What did you take? Tell me! And don't make me search you."

"I... I...", she stuttered, but he growled impatiently, and she pulled herself together. "A map... I saw a map with your name on it! But I did not take anything, I swear!"

"Did you find the amulet as well?" He tightened the grip in her hair.

"Yes!", she cried. "But I just wanted to admire it… it's so pretty... please, I really meant no harm, you're hurting me..."

He closed his eyes for a second as his heart pounded painfully in his chest. She had found the amulet, the one he nearly had forgotten about. The one he had stolen from the paladin's chambers before he left the Keep, with the miniature of Riana inside. The one he had kept with the stupid map, the map of the Mere, because that was something _she_ had given to him, her writing on the margin.

And now the mouse had seen her face. Knew about the gaping hole in his armour.

No! He would not let that happen, would not let her get to him so easily. Furious, he tightened the grip in her hair even more, making her whimper, and brought his face to hers, so he could stare directly into her eyes, to bring his point across.

„Don't think that changes anything, little mouse", he snarled. "You're _nothing_ like her, useless spoiled brat that you are. She was strong, she was determined, and she was a force to be reckoned with. You – you are not fit to hold a candle to her, as you no doubt realise yourself!"

She stared back at him, and he could see realisation dawn in her eyes. "_Merdelain_. The Mere of Dead Men. And Riana...", she whispered. "I _knew_ I heard it before!"

"Don't say her name!", he hissed, letting go of her hair finally, sitting back on his heels.

She seemed so engrossed in her realisation she did not hear what he said. "The Lady Knight of Neverwinter... the one who fought the King of Shadows with her companions…", she murmured, staring past him. "One was a wizard... and a paladin... and there was a ranger travelling with her..."

He curled his lips. "Blackmailed into helping her out, you mean."

Finally, her gaze fixed on him, shock written all over her face. "You... _you_ fought against the King of Shadows?", she asked, still trying to get her head around that fact. "It was _you_?"

"As long as it suited me", he said, curtly. "Drop it."

She continued to stare at him, her eyes wide. "But... they were heroes", she said, thunderstruck.

Bishop sneered. "That they were. Bright, shining heroes. Much good it did them."

"But you... you were a hero then, too.", she whispered, her eyes huge, fixed on his face, the question in them reminding him painfully of the might-have-beens in his life.

His anger somehow mostly evaporated, he ran his hands through his hair, suddenly feeling tired.

"I'm not hero material, little mouse. You have seen that for yourself. So just drop it, and don't get your hopes up that you might appeal to that spark of honour in me, because there's nothing to appeal to. I never was a hero. And that's why I'm still alive."

He fumbled the key to the chains out of his pocket. "Foot", he said.

She hesitated, still looking shaken, but then stretched out her leg so he could fasten the ring around her ankle.

He got up, went back to his backpack, took out the amulet and hung the key on the chain, fastening it around his neck. Then he let himself fall onto his sleeping place, and just lay there, his hand closed around the amulet, staring up into the ceiling until finally sleep claimed him.


	8. Chapter 8 Song

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

* * *

After a night plagued by dreams in which Riana's eyes continued to pass over him disinterestedly, Bishop woke to a splitting headache. Rain was drumming heavily on the roof of the hut.

He groaned, sitting up, rubbing his eyes blearily. Then he felt his stomach grumble.

Stupid. He had forgotten to eat yesterday, what with chasing the princess through the woods, and confronting her about searching his stuff. And the memories that had brought up...

No wonder his head was aching.

Cursing under his breath, he got up and threw his cape over his shoulders. Then he opened the creaking door to go and get some water. He hurried to crank the bucket up and fill his water skin, but the time spent outside was enough to get his hair dripping wet. Again.

Back inside the hut, he hung his cape on a hook in the wall and put some fresh wood into the fireplace, blowing into the remaining embers to get the fire going again. Soon, the flames started to crackle merrily.

Sighing, he sat back on his bedroll and drank some water. Gods, what he would not have given for some hot coffee right now. He started to rummage in his backpack to get out the rest of his meagre provisions. He simply had not planned on having to stay in the woods for a couple of days. Not much to eat left.

He'd have to go out hunting today. With the rain pouring down. Wonderful. Ah well, he was not made of sugar, was he? He could stand a bit of rain.

He pulled out the by now very stale bread and broke off a piece, taking a bite and chewing hard.

A whimper made him look up. The girl was awake and looking at him with huge eyes. Well, actually, she was staring at the bread with huge eyes.

Oh, right. She had not eaten yesterday as well, and probably was as hungry as him. But she did not dare to say anything.

He grinned, strangely satisfied. She was so afraid of him, the little mouse.

Still, could not let her starve. He broke off half of the remaining bread and threw it into her direction. Quickly, she scuttled over, snatched the bread and began to gorge it down.

Bishop frowned at her. "Stop that!", he said.

She looked up, frozen, and stared at him.

He sighed, got up, taking his own bread and water skin and went over to her. She retreated into her corner, hiding the bread behind her back.

"I'm not going to take it away", he said, slightly irritated, and she relaxed a bit. "But you have to take it slow, else your stomach will hurt like hell later. Take small bites, chew thoroughly. And drink something. Slowly." He handed her the water skin.

She took it with a nervous glance at his face and took some small sips.

He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes against the pounding in his skull. Groaning slightly, he massaged his temples. This was going to be one hell of a day, he could tell that already.

He took another bite out of the bread and opened his eyes again. The little mouse was nibbling on her bread, eyes cast down, chewing diligently. Her silvery blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders, tousled from sleep.

He could not resist to reach out and let one of the silken strands glide through his fingers. She looked up, alarmed.

"That's better.", he said. „Never had to go hungry before, did you, princess? Well, not all of us are that lucky. Remember to take it slow."

With that, he got up, and started donning his leathers. She observed him, her eyes wide and fearful. When he buckled his scimitars and picked up his bow and quiver, she obviously was alarmed enough to speak up.

"Where... where are you going?", she asked, her voice trembling. "You're not leaving me here, are you?"

He shrugged, putting the quiver over his shoulders. "Now, why would I do that, mousie?"

"Well, you… you _said_ you were going to kill me..." Her voice shook as she said that. "You could leave me here to starve…" There was a hint of panic in her words.

He looked at her, taking in the trembling of her lips and how her knuckles turned white, clutching the bread.

"I _told_ you it has to look like an accident. Starving chained to a wall does not fit the bill. So no, I won't do that."

"Why?", she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Why are you doing it at all?"

"As I said, someone is paying me an indecent sum of gold for it", he said, taking his cloak from the hook. "Got to make a living somehow. Not all of us have rich parents, happy to pay for every whim."

"But... who? Who would pay someone like you to kill me?"

He shrugged, turning to the door. "Don't know. Didn't ask. Not my business, is it? As long as I get paid."

"You really don't care at all, don't you?", she asked, bitterly.

He looked at her over his shoulder, looked her squarely in the eyes. "No, little mouse. I don't. I've killed people for less. A lot of people. Told you I have no heart, so don't act all surprised. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll see if I can find something for us to eat."

xxx

Some hours later, Bishop returned to the hut, soaking wet, but with a couple of rabbits and even some fresh mint he found. Together with the potatoes in the shed, that should make for some nice stew. It actually had been hard to catch the rabbits – even they seemed to be reluctant to be out and about in this weather.

The day had stayed grey and dull, the rain constantly pouring down. The forest looked gloomy in comparison to the sun drenched trees of yesterday. Which, honestly, was fine by him, fitting his mood. He just could have done without the wetness soaking through his cloak.

He left the rabbits outside the hut and entered, throwing off his cloak before it could drip all over the floor, and started to unbuckle his armour, taking it off with a sigh of relief.

He heard the chain clank from the other side of the room and looked up, to see the girl, her eyes rimmed red, tear stains on her cheeks, clutching her blanket to her chest.

"You're back!", she said.

He just had to grin as he made his way over to her. "Don't say you missed me, little mouse. Who'd have thought you'd ever be glad to see me?"

"I thought you left", she said, voice trembling.

He sighed and knelt down in front of her, catching her chin and forcing her to look up into his face.

"I already told you what I am about to do, mousie", he said. "If I were to leave you here to starve, I'd just tell you so. You think I'd try to spare your feelings? Hardly. What's more, would I have left my backpack behind, if I had not planned on returning?"

She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Sorry", she mumbled. "But something might have happened to you..."

He smiled thinly. "Don't worry, little mouse. I doubt there's anything about in these woods to put me in danger. And that includes your city friends."

She cast down her eyes, but did not reply. He stared at her and again was struck by how much she resembled _her_. Slowly, he let his thumb graze over her lower lip, watching it glide over the rosy skin. So much like _her_. And so different at the same time.

She inhaled, and her lips parted slightly, giving him a glimpse of white teeth behind. He ripped his hand away as if he had burned himself and pulled out the key to the chains under his shirt.

"You can make yourself useful for a change", he said gruffly, while he held out his hand, waiting for her to extend her foot to him. "In case you haven't noticed, there's no bunch of servants around to wait on you. So you can do some laundry while I clean out the rabbits, and start earning your food like everyone else."

"Laundry...?", she said, hesitatingly, but obediently held out her leg to him.

"Yes, laundry" he said bitingly, while he opened the lock. "You might have heard of it. My shirts don't clean themselves, you know?"

"But... I've never done that before", she said doubtfully, rubbing her ankle.

"Oh come on", he said, slipping the chain with the amulet and the key around his neck again, putting it back under his shirt. "A little warm water, a little soap, how hard can it be?"

"I... I can try", she said, still uncertain.

"That's the spirit, little mouse", he said. "Go get that fire going again, I'll fetch some water."

She nodded hastily and scurried to the fireplace, putting more wood inside. Bishop got up and followed her, taking the pot he had put to the side. He would have to clean out the fireplace soon. Or tell the princess to do it.

He imagined her covered with soot and snickered. Oh yes, he'd definitely tell her to do it. That would be something to behold.

He went outside, filled the pot with water and returned to the hut to hang it to the chain in the fireplace. She indeed had a merry fire crackling by that time. At least something she was good for.

Then he left again and fetched the tub from the shed, carrying it to the front of the hut through the still pouring rain. By the time he was back at the entrance, he was soaked again.

He entered and put the tub to the floor, looking down at his wet clothes, clingy like hell. He cursed silently and went over to his sleeping place, fetching the dirty shirt he had worn yesterday, throwing it next to the tub.

Then he rummaged through his backpack until he had found the piece of curd soap he carried.

"Here", he said, shaking the drops out of his hair as he walked over to the girl, sitting in front of the fire and watching him, her eyes huge again. He handed her the soap. "When the water is warm, you put it into the tub and soak the shirt. Then you wash it with the soap. And after I'm done with the rabbits, you can wash this one as well."

He indicated at the shirt he wore, clinging to his skin in a more than uncomfortable way. But it would be stupid to change it before he had cleaned those rabbits. He would just get another shirt wet and dirty.

She followed his gesture with her eyes and swallowed.

"Yes", she whispered, averting her eyes, looking to the ground.

"Good", he said, repressing a grin. Gods, she was docile. Fear was a wonderful thing.

He went outside, sitting down on a small, worm eaten bench leaning against the hut and started to work on the rabbits. After some time he heard the sound of wood gliding over wood, the clanging of metal and a yelping sound from inside.

He grinned. Obviously the little princess was facing the problem of getting the water from the pot into the tub. Well, let her deal with it.

He took his time preparing the rabbits, and when he was done, he buried the entrails and skins some distance from the hut. That done, he cleaned his hands at the well and went back into the shed to have a closer look at the potatoes there.

He decided they were old and squashy, but still edible. There also were some carrots left, shrivelled and blackened, but maybe still good inside. He took some potatoes, some carrots and two of the apples and carried it all back into the hut. After yesterday, today's meal would be something of a feast.

He entered the hut and put the vegetables on the small desk that was leaning to the wall next to the fireplace. Then he turned to the girl sitting on the floor, clutching the piece of soap he had handed her.

"Well, princess", he asked acidly, "shouldn't you have your hands in the tub, scrubbing away at the shirt?"

"I... I tried", she stammered. "But... the water... it was too hot, I could not reach into it."

He stared at her for a moment, while the meaning of her words slowly sank in. With two quick steps he went to the tub and looked inside. Finding his fears confirmed, he groaned, rubbing his hand over his forehead.

"Princess", he said, "what ever were you thinking, putting my shirt into boiling water?"

"But... you said...", she stuttered.

"I said _warm_, princess. _Warm_. Not hot. There's a difference, you know?"

"But... why... I thought..."

He reached into the still very hot water and fished out what was left of his shirt, holding it up.

"That's why, your highness. That's what happens if you wash a shirt too hot. I thought even someone as green as you knew that." He looked down at the shirt in his hands, which by now would fit someone half his size. Then he lifted his gaze and stared at her.

She was looking at the shirt in his hand, horrified. "Oh gods", she whimpered. "I did not know... I'm so sorry... I...", she broke off, too dismayed to continue.

Suddenly, the humour of the situation struck him, and his lips started twitching. He tried to repress it, but in the end could not help it and broke into laughter.

"You know, mousie", he snorted, "you sure do cost me a lot of shirts."

Still chuckling, he started to wring out the shirt while she stared at him as if he had sprouted a second head.

"Tell you what, princess. I get some cold water to cool it down, and you can try again with this one." He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it to her. "But remember – if you continue to destroy my shirts, I will have to go without all the time soon. Or is that the reason why you do it in the first place?"

He looked up to grin at her and found her still staring at him, looking as if she had been struck by lightning, blushing furiously.

He rolled his eyes. "Gods, you're so straight-laced, I can hardly believe you're engaged. Even that milksop you were going to marry should have taught you _something_ about male anatomy. You really _do_ act as if you've never seen a man before."

He took the pot, turning to the door. "Well, we can fix that, stare all you like", he said, over his shoulder. "But _try_ to be nice to my shirts from now on, I only have two left I can wear."

Still shaking his head in disbelief, Bishop went outside to fill the pot with cold water. After what he heard of her conversation with that sissy she was engaged to, he had assumed she was the one with the fire. But now it sure seemed as if she was quite the prude.

For a second, the thought of trying to show her what she missed sent his heart racing, but then he mentally shook himself. It would be a mistake, a grave mistake, to allow himself to give in to that urge.

And in the end, he would be left wanting anyway, because it was not her he longed for. It was another woman he really wanted.

He filled the pot with water, went back inside and poured the cold water into the tub, leaving some in the pot for the stew. He hung the pot back in the fireplace and added the pieces of rabbit, so that the meat could start cooking already.

He glanced at the girl and saw she was still sitting in the same spot, staring at the ground, obviously refusing to look up.

He snorted contemptuously. "Guess I'll cover myself up, so your lily-white self will not be offended by the view of my bare back anymore. This really is ridiculous, you know that? Even by your standards."

He went to his backpack and took out his last clean shirt. "Go wash my shirt, princess, and I would be immensely grateful if it survived the process. After that you can help me with the stew."

He threw the shirt over his head and turned to her. She had scuttled to the tub and put his shirt into the water, but at his words, she looked up, the colour still deep in her cheeks, but an alarmed look in her eyes.

"Stew...? But... I..."

He curled his lips in disdain. "Don't tell me, little mouse. You can't cook."

She blushed even deeper. "I... I... no", she whispered. "I can't."

He sneered at her. "You really are useless. Tell me, what _can_ you do? There must be _something_ you have learned how to do in your life."

She ducked her head, not answering for some seconds, obviously thinking wildly, trying to find something she was capable of doing. "I... I can sing", she finally said, hopelessly.

He just had to laugh. "You can sing", he repeated. "Well, ain't that grand." He sat down on his bedroll, taking out his dagger and his plate, putting it before him to start working on the potatoes.

"Sing, then", he said, still snickering. "Sing for me, little mouse. If that's the only thing you can do to please a man, sing. And don't forget my shirt while you're at it."

She flinched under his words, but obediently started to scrub his shirt with the help of the soap. Her long hair fell in front of her face, hiding it like a curtain, and then her voice sounded out, small and shaky.

Bishop took the first of the potatoes and started to clean it from sprouts, while he listened to her song.

She sang an old song about a woman, waiting for her son to return to her in a dark and cold winter's night. And if she had started out weak and insecure, after the first lines her voice gained in volume, as she seemingly forgot about him listening, and soon her voice filled the room, sweet, clear and full, while she continued to work on the shirt.

Captivated against his will, Bishop stopped working and let his dagger sink, watching her, listening. Something strange stirred inside him, a soft ache in his chest, a longing, painful and bittersweet, and he continued to listen, his eyes fixed on her, not able to shake the wistful tug in his heart.

When the song ended, she looked up at him, smiling shyly. And before he could stop himself, he felt a small smile appear on his face as well.

He could have slapped himself and drew a deep breath, searching for something biting to say, to destroy that strange mood that seemed to have settled between them, when she took the shirt out of the water, holding it up for him.

"Is that good?", she asked, that shy smile still on her face, and sounding so absurdly hopeful he could just wordlessly nod and quickly force himself to return his attention to the vegetable in his hand.

"You have to take it outside, rinse the soap out with clear water", he grumbled.

"I can do that!", she said, avidly, and hopped to her feet, making for the door.

"Wait!", he said, and she stopped, turning to him, a question in her eyes.

Sighing and thinking that he was somehow losing it, he put the dagger and potato down and got up.

"Your feet are bare, and it's still raining outside. Let me do that."

He went to her, taking the shirt out of her hand while she looked at him, blinking confusedly. He could sympathise with the feeling, he felt confused himself. It was not a feeling he appreciated.

He went outside, into the still pouring rain, and cranked up another bucket of water. With that, he slowly rinsed his shirt, his thoughts racing.

The whole situation was no good, no good at all. How could he stand two or three days more in her company, if he let her get to him like this? Why, why ever did she have to be so much like Riana? It was a cruel joke, and the punch line was on him.

He braced himself on the edge of the well, head lowered, and let the rain beat down on him, soaking him once more. The fact that his last dry shirt was getting thoroughly wet was not lost on him, but maybe the rain could cool him down some, help him get things back into focus.

When he started to shiver from the cold, he shook himself, wrung out the shirt and went back inside, dripping wet for the umpteenth time this day.

He really wondered why he bothered putting on dry clothes in between. Well, that was done with anyway. He did not have any left.

He put his washed shirt over the back of the lopsided chair and turned it to the fire, so the shirt would dry more quickly. Then he faced the girl, who... had taken his dagger, and the plate, and was hacking away at the potato with abandon, the pink tip of her tongue between her teeth in concentration.

"What ever are you doing, princess?", he asked, staring at the mutilation of a perfectly good vegetable.

She looked up at him, half hopeful, half afraid. "I... I just wanted to help. Don't you have to cut it...?"

He snorted, fighting the laughter that threatened to rise. She really was so green, it bordered on absurd.

"_Cut_ it, mousie, yes. Hack it into a pulp, no. Unless you want mashed potatoes. And even then you cook them _first_. And you forgot to peel it before cutting it."

She blinked at him, looking devastated. "Peel it...?", she asked. "Oh. Yes, of course."

She took another potato and said: "I'll peel it!", and before he could stop her, she sliced the dagger deep into the potato, sprouts and all.

He groaned and quickly walked up to her, dropping to his knees behind her, reaching around her and catching her hands.

"Stop, stop, for the gods' sake", he said, part amused, part exasperated. "Let me show you how to do it!"

She tensed a bit, but he ignored it and took the dagger out of her hand, putting it down.

"First, you strip off all those sprouts", he explained. "Fresh potatoes don't have them, but these are old. You just remove them with your thumb, see? Now, take the dagger."

She did as she was told, and he put the potato into her other hand, then taking both her hands into his, guiding her fingers, leaning a bit into her from behind.

His cheek touched her hair, her ear was next to his mouth, and her scent filled his nostrils, while her back pressed against his chest. He could feel his breath quicken as he fought the impulse to slowly trace the rim of her ear with the tip of his tongue.

He closed his eyes for a second, trying to get his bearings, then forced himself to focus on the task. "You hold the potato like this", he explained, and his voice sounded hoarse even in his own ears. "Then you slice the dagger under the skin, trying to cut it off as thinly as possible. You always pull the dagger into the direction of your thumb, so be careful not to slip and cut yourself. Yes, like that."

He guided her hands, holding them in his, fighting the strange, unwelcome thoughts having her this close brought up. Finished with the first potato, he let go of her hands, relieved to be able to draw back slightly.

"Now, try it yourself, mousie. But be careful, our stock on potatoes is somewhat limited, so try not to mangle it too badly."

She giggled, the sound reminding him of the tinkling of a bell, light and gay, and turned around to smile at him, her face just inches from his, her eyes – Riana's eyes – sparkling with laughter.

He felt a bolt of desire race up his body, hot and urgent, making his heart race and his pulse pound in his ears. His breath stuck in his throat as he stared at her, her lips so tantalizingly close, and he just wanted to grab her, throw her onto his blankets, tear that stupid dress off and...

With a foul curse he ripped the dagger from her hands.

"Oh, for the heavens' sake, get lost! I don't have all night, teaching a stupid, spoilt brat the simplest things! Go, sit in your corner, and be useless, like you've been all your life! Just get away from me!"

He jumped up, hurled the mess she had made of the first potato into the fire and stomped to his sleeping roll, letting himself plop down on it and continued to prepare the stew in brooding silence, not sparing her another glance.


	9. Chapter 9 Revelations

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

* * *

Liliana sat in her corner of the hut and watched him cutting the vegetables, his sudden anger radiating in strong waves from his tense form, and felt confusion and fear mingling strongly in her chest as she took in the dark and furious expression on his face. 

How had this happened?

She just couldn't tell. One moment, they had been sitting almost amicably on the floor, with him showing her how to use his knife to work properly on the potatoes, and the next…

She cast him another quick glance, noticing the way his eyes were now narrowed dangerously to slits as he worked furiously on the vegetable on his plate, his lips pressed to a thin line, his motions stiff and angry, and cringed. What had she done wrong?

Not that she knew what to make of him anymore. After the revelations of the last evening, she had lain awake most of the night, her stomach hurting like hell through sheer hunger, and had listened to the sound of the raindrops drumming on the wooden roof of the hut, her mind racing.

How could _he_ have been travelling with the Lady-Knight of Neverwinter?

But after she had seen his face, that brief expression of anguish when she had mentioned the lady's name, she could do nothing but believe him. But that was simply impossible! People who fought creatures like the King of Shadows were heroes. Shining, valiant men and women, whose deeds were an inspiration to everyone. Not brutal, ill-tempered thugs like him who liked to chain young women to the wall of their shabby hideouts, intending to make the lifes of their victims a living hell on Faerun.

And how was it possible that a woman like Riana fell in love with a man like _him_, loved him so much that she actually gave him a token of her love, one that he could carry with him wherever he went? It just made no sense!

She had finally awoken to these thoughts and a dull, grey morning, the rain still drumming heavily on the roof, and had seen him sitting on his bedroll already, his water skin in one hand, the bread in the other, and hadn't been able to stop herself from whimpering as she had seen the food in his hand, the painful burning in her stomach making her want to scream all of a sudden.

He had looked up, his face set in his usual scowl, and had finally thrown her the half of the bread, his cold, unfeeling eyes following her as she had scurried over from her spot at the wall to fetch the food. The bread had been stale and therefore hard to chew, but for her aching stomach, it had tasted like heaven, and so she had gobbled it as fast as she could until she had heard his harsh voice, telling her to stop.

Liliana had looked up, alarmed, and had seen him walking towards her, his water skin in his hand and a displeased frown on his face, and had hastily retreated against the wall, hiding the bread behind her back because she had been convinced that he had suddenly changed his mind and had decided to take the food away from her again.

She still had no idea what she actually could have done to stop him, but she knew that she had been determined not to give up, at least not without a fight. He had seemed to have guessed her fear, for his voice had sounded slightly irritated as he had sat down beside her, handing her his water skin and telling her to take it slow with the food, otherwise her stomach would be hurting like hell later.

She had watched him nervously out of the corner of her eye, suspecting an ulterior motive to his surprisingly calm words, but he had just sat beside her, his eyes closed, and had massaged his temples with a light groan, the dark shadows now very prominent under his eyes, as if he hadn't had a good night's rest, either…

The sound of feet shuffling over the wooden floor startled her out of her reverie, and she looked up, alarmed, only to see him walk towards the chimney, carrying his plate in his hands and adding the potatoes to the pot with so much force that he actually made some water splash over the iron rim and into the flames, where it evaporated with a loud, hissing sound. He turned his head, his eyes wandering searchingly over the ground, and then cursed under his breath before he turned and threw his plate and knife onto his bedroll once more, making his way back towards the door of the hut without sparing her as much as a glance.

A slamming noise, and he was gone, and Liliana pulled her legs tightly to her chest while she edged a little closer to the warmth of the chimney, the cool, damp air in the hut finally making her shiver. Wasn't it strange that she was actually relieved that he had left the hut for now, when only a few hours ago, she had watched him donning his leathers and had been terrified by the sudden, erroneous fear that he would simply leave her here alone to starve, because she had made so much trouble?

Liliana felt her cheeks reddening with embarrassment as she stared into the flickering flames, cringing inwardly. Gods, what a sheep she had been! No wonder he had mocked her after his return, an amused grin on his face, pointing out to her that he never would have left his backpack behind, had he not planned on returning. And how could she have felt relieved, even almost glad, as he had finally returned to the hut, thoroughly drenched from the rain? He was the _villain_, after all!

That thought made a strange bundle of contradicting emotions well up in her chest, and she continued to stare into the fire, lost in her thoughts as she let the events of the afternoon pass before her inner eye.

She could still hear his gruff voice, telling her _to make herself useful for a change_ and _to start earning her food like everyone else_, and the biting sarcasm hidden in his words had been enough to make her overcome her indignation at the prospect of washing his clothes, as if she was not only his prisoner, but now some kind of chamber maid as well.

But she had promised herself not to enanger him again, and strangely enough, it had felt surprisingly good to _do_ something for a change, and so she had waited patiently until the water had started to boil and had then tried her best to get it from the pot into the tub, determined to show him that she _could_ earn her food.

She still remembered the wave of pure horror that had rippled through her as he had finally returned to the hut and had lifted the shrunken remains of his tunic out of the still steaming water, convinced that he would get furious with her again.

But instead, he had stared into the tub, his eyes widening in disbelief, and then had suddenly burst into laughter, startling her with his unexpected reaction.

And it had not been his usual cruel, sneering laugh, either, but a deep, melodious sound, full of good humour, and she had watched in utmost surprise how the harsh lines in his face had actually softened with the first genuine smile she had ever seen on his face, his usually cold eyes suddenly filled with a warmth that she had never expected, and had felt more than a little confused as she had suddenly realised that she had even liked the sound.

The creaking of the door made her jump all of a sudden, and as she looked up, she saw him enter the hut again, still in a very foul mood and his clothes clinging to his body again, due to the rain.

She watched him making his way back towards the chimney, still refusing to cast her as much as a glance, and wondered how this man and the one she had seen this afternoon could actually be one and the same person.

Obviously, he had made his way out and into the pouring rain to fetch a long, well-shaped branch and, surprisingly enough, a bottle, filled with a clear liquid, and placed both items on the worm-eaten table before he reached for the branch and started to remove the soaked bark with several rough movements, using the cleaned branch as a makeshift spoon to stir the stew.

His back was turned to her, and she could see the muscles of his shoulders through his clinging tunic, reminding her uncomfortably of that embarrassing moment earlier this afternoon when he had pulled his other tunic over his head to throw it at her, making it impossible for her _not_ to look at his well-trained chest and stomach once more.

He had stood not even two feet away from her, and so she had been quite surprised to see the thin, white lines of the scars that ran over his upper torso, wondering curiously for a moment whether they were remnants of the time when he had travelled with the Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep as he had addressed her in that almost agreeable voice once more, that amused grin still on his face, and Liliana had felt herself blushing furiously, being strangely embarrassed all of a sudden that he had caught her staring at him.

The thought of his pleased, mocking smirk, had he realised that she _had_ been staring, made her almost cringe with disgust. What had she been thinking, looking at him this way, as if she had actually _liked_ the sight he had presented, and had not just been merely interested?

She cast him another glance and saw him get up and walk over to the table again, reaching for the bottle and taking a deep swig from the clear liquid before he put it down once more, and she couldn't suppress a frown as she caught the whiff of strong liquor and wild berries as he walked back to his bedroll again, starting to work on the carrots, his anger still emanating from him in surprisingly strong waves. What would he do to her, should he get drunk and his anger turn violent all of a sudden?

She watched him in silence, her heart becoming strangely heavy as she saw that the harsh lines in his face had finally returned, and hugged her legs even closer, feeling confused, lonely.

What had she done to enrage him so?

For a blissful hour, it had truly looked as if things would brighten up from now on. She had been thrilled at his surprisingly good mood, feeling so relieved to be freed from the gnawing fear that had begun to eat her alive, and had therefore tried her best to please him, to help with the preparations as best as she could, only to keep things that way.

She had even sung for him, because it had been the only thing that had come to her mind as he had asked her in his usual sneering voice _Tell me, what _can_ you do_?, as she had been forced to admit that she had no idea how to make a stew.

First, as she had felt his piercing stare, his amused laughter still echoing loudly in her ears, she had been nervous like hell, her voice shaking audibly, and so she had finally closed her eyes, shutting it all out - the hut, him, everything, to focus on her song, and her song alone.

When her tune had ended, she had looked up at him, smiling shyly, half expecting to see the usual scowl on his face and to receive just another one of his sneering, scathing remarks, and had therefore been quite surprised to see him watching her intently, his eyes fixed on her face, and with an answering smile that one could almost call gentle.

He had even taken his washed tunic from her as she had already been on her way to the door, taking it outside and into the still pouring rain to rinse it himself, leaving her standing in the doorway to stare after him, openmouthed and confused. That had been another thing she had never expected from him. The man she had come to know would have possibly grabbed her by the hair to haul her outside and watch her rinse his tunic, but cleanse it himself?

Strangely enough, this rare show of decency and thoughtfulness had only fueled her desire to make herself useful, to carry her own weight, and so she had settled down on his bedroll, taking his knife firmly in one hand and starting with what she had thought was the proper way to prepare a potato for cooking. She could still hear the amusement behind his exasperation as he had finally come back into the hut, draping his rinsed tunic onto the chair close to the fireplace, and had found her hacking away at the potato with abandon, still determined to help him with the stew as best as she could.

She remembered how he had crossed the distance between them with a few quick steps, kneeling behind her and reaching for her hands to stop her from mutilating the poor vegetable any longer. She had tensed in his embrace, unsure what to expect of him, but he had simply reached for the knife and potato and had started to slowly guide her hands, showing her how to strip off the sprouts and peel the wrinkled skin with the blade.

She could still feel his hands on hers, hardened from his long years spent out in the woods and yet strangely gentle, feeling so different from Cedric's smooth, well cared-for skin, and could hear his voice again, talking quietly into her ear, calmly explaining to her the various steps, and not for the first time this day Liliana had been surprised how agreeable his voice could actually sound without its usual sneer.

Sitting so close to him, she had caught a whiff of his scent again, that not unpleasant musky odour which always reminded her of sun and leaves, and for one short, wonderful moment, she had truly felt something close to merriment, kneeling there on the ground, just content to be sheltered in his arms, _doing_ something, and had therefore turned around to smile at him, a free laughter rising in her chest, her fear of him suddenly forgotten.

And then everything had changed again.

He had just stared at her, still kneeling behind her with a strange expression on his face, and then she had seen that fire ignite in his unusual eyes again, and a deep feeling of foreboding had settled in her stomach as he had cursed viciously all of a sudden and had ripped the knife from her hand, startling her with his vehemence.

She heard him move to the chimney again and looked up to see him adding the carrots to the stew, reaching for his makeshift spoon while taking another swig from his bottle, and Liliana heard her stomach grumble audibly as the smell of cooked rabbit and potatoes began to waver through the hut. Would he even give her something from the stew, now that she hadn't been able to do anything to earn the food?

Remembering the look on his face as he had stood abruptly to cast the remnants of her first potato into the fire, she did not think so. She had fled from his bedroll back onto her own blanket, feeling her panicked fear returning almost instantly, and had watched him preparing his food with growing concern and confusion, still not able to understand what she could have done to ignite that simmering anger inside him.

_Go, sit in your corner, and be useless, like you've been all your life!_

She could still hear his voice, so full of anger and contempt, hissing at her, and felt a strange mixture of emotions rise in her chest, shame surprisingly strong among them. Was it her fault that she did not know how to make stew, or how to cleanse a tunic? Liliana had never thought much about the things she could do with her life, being born to a good-situated family, but now, with his sneering voice still echoing loudly in her mind, she felt like she was lacking something essential, and surprisingly enough, his words seemed to have stuck true.

_A flower, just as prissy, fragile and useless as you are. Good for nothing but decoration._

But it did not suit a young lady from a good-situated family to have a profession, did it not? At least that had been her mother's conviction, and Liliana had never questioned it, seeing all her female friends brought up in the same way. So when her mother had told her one day that it was time now to stop being a tomboy and turn into a young lady instead, she had obediently stopped playing with the children of their employees and had begun wearing dresses and learning how to knit and embroider, like all well-educated daughters did.

Not that she had actually wanted to become a tradesman, like her father or Cedric, but she knew that she would have loved to become a bard. From all the lessons she had received, music had always been her favourite, and so she would have loved to visit one of the great conservatoires, like the one in Waterdeep, or in Silverymoon, to improve her skill. The thought of travelling through Faerun, from one festival to another, with her lute on her back and her songs in her heart, had been so enticing, but her mother had not wanted to hear a single word about it, had even tried to stop her musical education entirely after Liliana had talked to her about her plans, no matter how desperately her daughter had begged her afterwards to be at least allowed to continue her studies.

It had been her grandfather who had saved her in the end.

Being kind of a rebel himself, he had left his family in Waterdeep as a youth to let them deal with the trading business all by themselves and had become a blacksmith instead, making his living now in Baldur's Gate together with his wife, where he had made quite a name of his own, for he had been a really talented craftsman.

How she had enjoyed the summers spent in his hunting lodge in the Cloak Woods as a child, spending most of the days out in the woods and on the heels of the scouts, dogging their footsteps like a shadow, eager to watch them following tracks and setting up traps during the hunt.

But when her moon's blood had finally started, her mother had insisted that she kept away from what she had always called _the men's fancies_ and started to spend her time with the women of the family instead, just like every well-educated daughter would. Liliana had never truly understood why Damian had been forced to take part in the hunt, although he would have loved to stay behind and spend his time learning and reading, while she had hungered to be out in the woods again but had been forced to stay behind, listening to the gossip of the women.

But her grandfather had known, and had been the only one who had understood what it had meant for her to be forced to give up her musical studies as well, and had therefore done all in his power to help her.

So a few weeks after her mother had decided to end her musical education, and all the discussions that had been led with her parents after that, Liliana had gotten a large package from her grandfather, and had been more than surprised to find a harp inside the wooden box, one of the most beautiful instruments she had ever seen. She would never forget the sour expression on her mother's face while her father had made his way around the box, admiring the harp, before he had finally turned around to face his wife, a coaxing smile on his face.

"Well, my dear, you _have_ to admit that our Lily has truly been gifted with musical talent, and it would be such a shame to have an instrument like that in our house and noone who actually knows how to play it."

And so she had been allowed to continue her studies even against the reluctance of her mother, had learned how to play the harp and the lute, and had actually found comfort in her calm, leisurely way of life. But now _he_ had forced her to face the fact that, in truth, she had no talents at all that would help her out here in the wilderness, away from a city and her protected life, and the truth tasted like bitter wine, its sour taste choking her.

_Well, I think I could offer to embroider his tunics, maybe with some kind of ivy runners… or even another woodland motive._

An image of him, wearing such a fancy piece of cloth, came suddenly to her mind, and she giggled before she could stop herself, because the thought alone was just too funny to keep herself from laughing. Then she frowned, quickly casting him another fearful glance out of the corner of her eye, and was relieved to see him still sitting in front of the chimney, staring into the fire and taking a swig from the bottle now and then, and sent a quick prayer of thanks to the gods that he hadn't caught her giggling, unsure what he would have done to her if he had.

He suddenly got to his feet again, and so she quickly averted her eyes, as she did not want him to think that she had been staring at him, and heard him walk over to his backpack once more, rummaging in its depths before he made his way back to the fire after a while, now carrying a wooden bowl and a small spoon in his hands.

Liliana watched as he started to fill some stew into his bowl and then sat down to eat, her stomach churning longingly at the pleasant smell that now filled the hut. That was another thing she had never expected - he, being an adept cook. Her stomach gave a loud, grumbling sound, and she quickly pressed a hand onto her belly, afraid that the noise would catch his attention.

But he simply continued eating, still not sparing her as much as a glance, and she felt a surprisingly strong wave of bitterness well through her while her heart became terribly heavy all of a sudden. Yes, that was exactly what she had expected of him. Whatever glimpses she had thought to have seen during the afternoon, there was no kind man hidden beneath his hostile exterior. He was cold and cruel right down to the very core of his being - and what else had she expected from a man like him, someone who seemed to make a living with murdering people for gold?

She saw him get up to refill his bowl, feeling the spiteful and childish desire to see him suffocate from his oh-so delicious stew, as he suddenly turned around and walked over to her to throw the bowl down close to her feet, spilling some stew onto the wooden beams.

"Eat!", he growled before he finally returned to his place in front of the fireside, without casting her as much as a glance again. For the length of several heartbeats, she could do nothing but stare numbly at him and then at the bowl in front of her, her mind racing.

Then her stomach gave another grumbling sound, and she hastened to reach for the food, not caring that she burned her fingers in the process, and started eating, forcing herself to take it slow, just like he had told her this morning. The stew was hot and delicious, tasting of rabbit and vegetables, but with a surprisingly strong undercurrent of mint and spice, and in her starved state, it truly tasted like heaven.

She finished her bowl with a small, contented sigh, feeling warm and sated for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, and sat up to watch him still sitting in front of the fireside, staring broodingly into the crackling flames.

_I just don't understand him._

How come he… Bishop… could act so cold and cruel all evening, and yet give her something to eat? She watched the light of the fire play with his sharp features, the lines of his face still hardened with anger and frustration, as a surprising thought suddenly came to her mind, making her shiver.

What if all that anger had not been directed at her? What if he had actually been angry with himself? Angry for being… calm, and almost friendly, sitting beside her and showing her how to cut a potato, when he was supposed to kill her in a couple of days?

_Got to make a living somehow. Not all of us have rich parents, happy to pay for every whim._

He had been travelling with the Knight-Captain, had even loved her deeply, from what she could tell. In all the tales she had heard, the lady and her companions had never returned, had died during their heroic attempt to save Neverwinter from the King of Shadows. What could that do to a man, losing the woman he loved, losing his place in life, ending up alone in a cold world, with all hope suddenly gone?

_Got to make a living somehow._

What if he had been forced to do this, had known no other way of making a living, maybe wondering all the time what his love would have to say to him, could she see him right now, murdering people for gold?

She cast him another sharp glance, taking in the hard glow in his eyes and the bitter lines around his mouth, and, surprisingly enough, felt something close to pity for him.

_The woman he loved died to save her city. If it had been Cedric, I think it would have killed me as well._

And if there _was_ a glimpse left of the man he had once been, the man the Lady-Knight of Crossroad Keep must have fallen in love with, maybe she could still work out a truce between them, could find a way of keeping the peace until she had been found and rescued, could try to work around his anger. Maybe even find a way to keep him from hurting her. But how?

_Stop being useless anymore. Start carrying your own weight._

Her determination suddenly rekindled, she quickly got up and walked over to the tub, his bowl and spoon firmly in her trembling hands. Casting him a nervous glance out of the corner of her eye, she threw the dishes into the cool water and started to scrub away at the bowl and the spoon with her bare hands, trying to clean them as thoroughly as she could.

All the time she spent washing his dishes, he continued to ignore her, simply taking another swig now and then from the now noticeably emptied liquor bottle. But as she started to drag the tub across the floor towards the door of the hut, he finally got to his feet with a vicious snarl, and his eyes glittered unnaturally bright in the dim light of the fire as he slowly approached her, his posture still tense and hostile.

"What _the hells_ do you think you're doing?"

The violent anger in his voice made her want to cringe and retreat back against the wall, but she forced herself to stand her ground, determined to stay calm, no matter what he would do to her. If she wanted to be treated more kindly, she had to show him that she _could_ be strong. That she was not afraid of him anymore.

"You said I … I should start earning my food. There was still some water in the tub, and so I thought I could clean the dishes before I emptied the tub outside. That's all."

He snorted derisively.

"Did you _really_ think that cleaning the dishes and making my ears bleed from that screeching noise would earn you some food?"

She met his burning eyes squarely, careful to hide her shaking hands behind her back to keep them from view.

"No. But I…could…"

There was a strange light in his eyes as he walked closer and closer, slowly, his glittering eyes reminding her uncomfortably of a predator again, and Liliana was forced to muster every ounce of strength she possessed to stand her ground, her hands balled into fists, swallowing nervously.

He approached her until he finally stood so close that she could feel his body, lightly pressing against hers, and then leaned into her to whisper quietly into her ear.

"I have an idea how you could earn your food, princess!"

His voice sounded unusually hoarse, holding a strange undercurrent that made her shiver, and her eyes widened as she caught a whiff of liquor and wild berries in his breath, realising for the first time that he actually _was_ quite drunk. That strange light in his eyes, his deliberately slow movements…

Then she felt his lips, wandering from her ear and down the column of her throat, their touch tentatively light, tasting her, and she felt herself go rigid under his caress, her heart now beating like a frightened bird in her chest.

_I have an idea how you could earn your food._

_Oh, Gods, please, no…_

His mouth wandered over her neck, tenderly, probing, sucking softly, and she felt goose bumbs rise all over her body as a strange feeling welled through her. Was it fear? It had to be fear, what else could it be…

She heard a small moan escape his lips as his mouth touched her ear lobe again, nibbling gently, and felt like her whole body was trembling violently all of a sudden, his scent invading her senses, and for a fleeting moment, she thought her knees would give out beneath her, and without thinking she reached up for his shoulders to steady herself.

That only seemed to encourage him, because with another moan, he pressed himself even harder against her, his hands grabbing her waist, pulling her closer, and yet his lips traced a line of feathery light kisses along her jawline, ever so gentle, nearing her mouth while his hips brushed against hers, and she felt…

_No!_

With a small, panicked yelp, she withdrew from him, pushing her hands firmly against his chest and then hastily stumbling a few steps back, the tub now between them, and her heart was still beating frantically in her chest, her breathing quick and shallow.

"Please, I… I can stitch. Fetch your clothes. Cross-stich, the Tailor's stich… whatever you like!"

Even in her own ears, her voice sounded unnaturally high and breathless, and a part of her cringed inwardly as she heard her babbling, but one look at his face was enough to keep her talking, aimlessly, without stopping, just to distract him, calm him down, make him look away…

"All you have to do is lend me needle and thread, and I can repair your clothes nicely for you, to earn my food. You'll see!"

For the length of several heartbeats, he just stared at her, the smouldering gaze of his eyes making her knees weak and her hands tremble even more violently, and she could feel her blood pound strongly in her ears, the strange emotion that still welled through her intensifying under his burning stare.

_Please, don't look at me this way…_

For what seemed an eternity, he just stared at her, his eyes boring hard into hers, until he finally averted his gaze, growling in his usual scathing voice.

"Fine. Certainly worth more than a moment of cheap gratification."

His gaze returned to her, his eyes still burning, but his face a cold, unfeeling mask again, revealing none of his emotions.

"And my cloak needs some fixing. But mess it up, little mouse, and I can _promise_ you will go hungry for the rest of your life."

She swallowed hard as she finally understood the hidden meaning behind his scathing words, but somehow found the strength to keep her voice calm and steady, if only a little strained.

"I will… I will see to it first thing in the morning."

He grunted, a sound that she interpreted as a kind of agreement, and then inclined his head sharply in the direction of the wall, that biting sarcasm still very prominent in his voice.

"Sit down and put out your foot.", he growled commandingly.

She reluctantly walked back to her corner of the hut, giving him a wide berth while her heart still beat madly, watching him with growing concern as he took the key from its chain around his neck to fasten the ring around her ankle once more, and hurried to lay down on her blankets as he finally retreated back into his corner, her body still shivering, but not solely from the cool nightair that ebbed through the fissures in the wood.

Maybe things _would_ change between them. But somehow, she couldn't believe that things would change for the better anymore.


	10. Chapter 10 Good Night, Sleep Tight

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

* * *

Bishop sat, staring into the fire while his mind turned over the events of the evening again and again. 

He had to face it. The little trollop was getting to him.

He let her get to him.

That moment, when she had turned and laughed, her eyes sparkling with true merriment, her hair grazing his face when she turned her head, making her scent rise even more prominently into his nose, her lips so tantalisingly near...

It had been close. Really close. He had been seconds away from forgetting himself...

He took another swig out of the bottle, feeling the liquid burn as it ran down his throat.

What was he to do? He had to wait at least one or two days more before he could kill her. How ever was he going to get through those days without committing some seriously addlebrained act?

And why not, a sweet, seductive voice whispered in the back of his brain. No one would know... no one would notice when they fished her body out of the water. So what if he stilled that need that burned in him, stronger than the liquor burned in his stomach? So what if he used her to dampen the pain the sight of her brought, to slake the yearning in his heart – and other parts of his body? Even if she was only a replacement... she still looked the part...

No! No, no, no. Bad idea. Very, very bad idea. She would only crawl under his skin even more than she had done so anyway. Could not let her see, could not let her know how much she affected him. Had to keep away.

He would just sit here and get roaring drunk instead.

Right.

His thoughts were interrupted when a loud, scraping noise set his teeth on edge. He looked up to see the girl dragging the tub over the floor.

He growled and went to his feet, realising the ground felt slightly wobbly. He must have proceeded further towards his goal of getting drunk than he had thought... That the girl looked somewhat blurred only confirmed that thought.

"What _the hells_ do you think you're doing?", he asked angrily and walked up to her –carefully, because the ground indeed felt unsteady.

She yammered something about earning her food. Stupid bint.

"Did you _really_ think that cleaning the dishes and making my ears bleed from that screeching noise would earn you some food?"

He stepped even closer, but she did not retreat. Instead she held his gaze somewhat defiantly.

"No,", she said. "But..."

He did not listen to what she said. Her scent was in his nostrils again, and her soft, rosy lips beckoned.

Slowly, purposefully, he walked forward, his eyes trained on her mouth. She stopped talking. He could see her throat move as she swallowed nervously – but she did not move backwards.

He took a last step forward, until his body touched hers, and that dull burning in him roared to life, turning into a hot, searing flame.

Somewhere in his brain his common sense was screaming at him that this was a mistake, a bloody big mistake, that he would regret it later... but his mind was just fuzzy enough not to care anymore.

He leaned forward, closed his eyes and whispered into her ear: "I have an idea how you could earn your food, princess."

His heart racing a mile a minute, he let his mouth wander down the column of her throat, her skin so soft, so fragrant under his lips.

Gods, he wanted her.

He kissed his way along her neck, sucking softly, just savouring the feel, the taste of her.

He'd make her want him, too. Make her forget that wimp she was betrothed to...

With a small moan, he returned his attention to her ear, nibbling gently at her lobe, feeling her shiver against him, her hands clutching at his shoulders, holding on to him.

Oh, gods.

To hell with the consequences.

Another moan escaping his throat, he grabbed her waist, pulling her harder against him. He kissed his way along her jaw, slowly, oh so slowly, feathery touches, cautiously stalking his prey, taking painstaking care not to scare her off. He could hear her breath, short and fast. Was she frightened? Was she excited? Did it matter?

His lips touched the corner of her mouth, and he felt his heartbeat spike as a hot wave seemed to crash over him.

He had to feel her, her mouth under his...

She squeaked and shoved at his chest with unexpected strength, catching him by surprise and sending him stumbling some steps back before he could catch himself. That his knees still seemed made of rubber did not help.

"Please,", she stammered, her voice high-pitched and full of panic. "I… I can stitch. Fetch your clothes. Cross-stich, the Tailor's stich… whatever you like! All you have to do is lend me needle and thread, and I… I can repair your clothes nicely for you, to earn my food. You'll see!"

She was babbling. Frightened, it was. Well, of course. Why would she be excited? She did not want him, just as the original had not wanted him.

Damn, it hurt. Should not hurt so much. She was stirring it all up again.

Hurt so much he could not even get angry anymore. Just felt so tired of it.

But the distance helped to clear his mind a bit.

Again. He had let it happen again. Blasted booze. Note to self: Do not get drunk in company of girl. Stupid thing to do. Should have known better.

Now, he had to try and cut his losses as good as possible. Could not let her see what she did to him.

He put his best sneer on his face. "Fine. Certainly worth more than a moment of cheap gratification. And my cloak needs some fixing. But mess it up, little mouse, and I can _promise_ you will go hungry for the rest of your life."

There. That should have done it. Would not do for her to get some ideas in her head, wouldn't it? For her to think that what he had just done _meant_ something to him.

Which it did not.

So that was settled then.

"I will… I will see to it first thing in the morning.", the girl answered, sounding relieved.

He pulled the chain with Riana's locket and the key out from under his shirt.

"Sit down and put out your foot", he commanded.

She obeyed, the expression on her face still reminding him of a frightened filly. He walked up to her, a bit more steady than before as the effect of the alcohol started to wear off somewhat.

Taking care not to touch her skin, he fastened the ring around her ankle again and then got up and back to the other end of the hut as quickly as possible without making it look like a flight.

He put the cork back into the bottle and stowed it away. Dangerous stuff. Better to keep away from it.

He lay down on his bedroll, forcing his mind away from thinking of the way she had felt against his body, the way her skin was like silk under his lips.

Bad train of thought.

Instead, he concentrated on something else. Karnwyr! Yes, that was something to think about.

He had not seen his companion for days now. Not that that was unheard of. The wolf sometimes left him for some time, to do whatever wolves did alone. Wolfy things. Probably involving female wolves. It was that time of the year.

At least one of them was getting some.

He repressed a groan when he realised his thoughts had taken him full circle. As soon as he had received the second half of his money, he would visit the next brothel and stay a week. Obviously he had let a lot of pressure build up.

Resolutely, he closed his eyes firmly and tried to find some sleep.

xxx

He woke some time later, could not tell how long, from the noise. Instantly alert, he tensed, trying to figure out what it was he heard.

A clacking kind of noise.

Like teeth chattering.

The girl.

He groaned and tried to ignore it, to get back to sleep, but now that it had woken him, he could not brush it off. He just _had_ to concentrate on it. It drove him nuts.

"Stop that noise!" he gritted out.

Silence. And then another chatter.

"Stop. It.", he said, low and threatening.

"I... I tried", she said, a hint of panic in her voice. "I can't!"

"Then try harder!" His voice rose angrily. "I bloody well can't sleep, so stop it!"

Silence again. Chatter.

"Are you _trying_ to get me mad, little mouse?"

"I c... can't help it... it's so c... cold!", she answered, her teeth chattering while she spoke, the panic now very prominent in her voice.

He groaned, his hand pressed over his eyes. What ever had he done to deserve... oh, right. Dumb question.

If he wanted to get any sleep at all, he'd have to keep her warm. Mollycoddled city brat was not used to a bit of chill.

He did not want to do it. He really didn't. It was an absolutely daft thing to do, considering the situation.

Groaning again, he got up and took his blanket, reluctantly walking over to her, spreading the blanket over hers.

"Move over", he said through clenched teeth.

In the near darkness, he could see her go rigid.

"Wh... what...?", she started, stammering.

"Oh, don't get your knickers all twisted, princess. I just want to get some sleep tonight. And that chattering is driving me crazy. So we'll share blankets. Don't worry, I think I can refrain from touching you. Now move already, or I'm going to move you."

There was a moment of utter stillness, but then she moved to the side.

He slipped under the blankets and lay on his side, staring into the darkness with open eyes, suddenly not sleepy anymore.

The chattering had stopped, but now he could feel her shiver next to him.

Please, no... not that...

But the shivering continued. He could feel it, keeping him awake as sure as the chattering had done.

He groaned for the third time.

"Oh, for the gods' sake, girl! Roll to your side!"

She hesitated.

"Roll over!", he gritted, quite near the end of his patience.

She must have heard it in his voice, because she rolled to her side, turning her back to him.

Swearing, he sidled up to her, spooning her to his body and putting his arm around her to keep her warm.

Her whole body was tense like a spring, but at least the shivering abated.

And he lay there, her body in his arms, pressed against his, her behind in contact with very special parts of his anatomy, her silky hair tickling his face, taunting him with her scent, and fought to keep his body's reactions under control. Fought to keep his breath even, not to let his hands wander, not to press harder against her, not to sink his teeth into the skin of her neck, claiming her.

He doubted they had invented a torment like this in all nine hells. Just too damn cruel.

They lay in the dark for a long time. He could tell she was as awake as he was, but surely for completely different reasons.

But as the minutes ticked by, and he did not do anything but keep her warm, she relaxed bit by bit. And then he knew by the sound of her breathing she had finally fallen asleep.

He himself did not find sleep for a lot longer, until in the end, he slept from pure exhaustion.

xxx

When Bishop woke up, he was lying on his back, a warm weight in his arm. He opened his eyes, finding himself on the other end of the hut. For a moment, he was confused, but then the memory of the previous night came rushing back. And his pulse started to race in the same second.

Blazing hells!

She was lying in his arm, cuddled firmly against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her arm over his chest, clutching him tightly, and her leg pulled up over his, so that there did not seem an inch of her that was not somehow pressed to him.

It felt so damn good... and not in a physical way either. At least not _just_ in a physical way.

Something stirred in his heart, an odd, fluttering feeling he did not want to dwell on. Seemingly of its own accord, his hand started to move – softly stroking her silvery tresses.

She must have sensed it, because she murmured in her sleep, sounding so content, snuggling even closer.

His arms closed around her, holding her tight, and he buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply.

There was a strange feeling in his chest. He could not put a name to it... or did not want to. But in this moment, holding her, breathing her scent, he wished they could stay like that forever. It really felt so good... and all the bitterness, all the pain he'd been dragging around all those years seemed like a distant memory somehow. He knew it was there, lurking under the surface, but right now, he could not feel it anymore. It was as if her presence kept it away.

Just holding her, and her holding on to him, did that.

Maybe...

Unconsciously, his arms tightened around her, and he caught himself pressing a soft kiss on her temple. She stirred again, and looked up, blinking lazily, still half asleep.

"Cedric...?", she murmured.

He simply could not describe the effect that single word had on him. He went still while all those bitter feelings that had seemed so distant just a moment ago went crashing down on him again, that terrible weight settling back on his shoulders, dragging him down, making it hard to breathe, making his heart ache with every beat.

"Pain" did not do the feeling justice.

And what the hells had he been thinking? How could he have been so birdbrained? He _knew_ better, didn't he? Things never worked out for him. How could he have considered, if only for a moment...

Luckily she had stopped him before he could make a complete fool out of himself.

Now the only thing left to do was to cover his tracks again – and maybe pay her back in kind for what she made him feel.

So he sneered at her and said, derisively: "Not quite, princess. The way you've been clinging to me, I guess you have an itch you want him to scratch. Well, he's not here, and I'm not offering. Sorry to tell you, but I'm sober again. After some stiff drinks yesterday you sure looked more appealing. Just not interested in enduring the clumsy ministrations of a simpering maiden. So stop wrapping yourself around me like a damn constrictor snake and let me get up, will you?"

For a second her eyes stared into his, but then he saw tears welling up in them and she scurried away from him, averting her gaze.

He felt a surge of grim satisfaction. Misery loved company, they said. So true. Well, he could make her miserable. Child's play. Making people miserable was one of his most noticeable talents. And she deserved to be punished, deserved to suffer...

He gave a short, sardonic laugh and stood, staring down at her, huddled against the wall, her shoulders shaking.

"Look at you, pathetic, weak, blubbering. You're disgusting. Gods, I really don't think I can take another day in your company. I'm leaving."

That made her look up, horror in her tear-drenched eyes.

He snorted. "Don't piss your pants, princess, I'll be back. But I really need a break from your snivelling and your die-away airs. A man can only suffer so much of that."

He turned and went to his backpack, throwing her his water skin, and then filling some of the left-over stew into his bowl – the bowl she had cleaned yesterday, thoroughly, to appease him. Right before he... no, he would not go there.

He dropped the bowl next to her. "Have fun, princess. Dream of your Cedric. He won't come to your rescue, but dreaming can't hurt."

With that, he turned and left the hut, taking his scimitars with him. It would not do to go unarmed, even if he did not intend to go far. Could not risk to leave her unobserved for too long, someone might come along and find her. It was unlikely, but he could not take any risks.

Regardless, he had to get away at least for a time, get some fresh air, maybe clear his head again.

Only two more days or so, then he would get rid of her. And it would be healthier for him to spend that time as far away from her as possible. Keep away from temptation.

He walked a couple of yards until he reached the first of the trees, climbed one and settled into a crotch, his head resting on the bough, staring up into the green canopy of the leaves.

The weather still was dull, grey and cool, but at least it was not raining anymore.

He would just stay here for the day, away from the cursed girl and the memories she brought. Maybe he could sleep outside tonight, as well. Let her freeze, for all he cared, as long as he did not have to listen.

Time crept by slowly as he kept staring sightlessly upwards, his mind occupied with the strange medley of emotions warring in him.

Anger. Disgust. Fear. Longing. Desire. And a dozen more he could not name. Many of them directed at himself. Like the disgust.

Gods, he was pathetic, brought to his knees just because the little tart reminded him of _her_. Just to think he really had considered letting her live for a moment... he must have been completely off his rocker.

Well, thanks to her, he was cured from that notion. Day after tomorrow, she would die. And he could leave all this behind, get his footing again and forget she ever existed. Twenty thousand gold would be a big help with that. Twenty thousand gold and the company they could buy.

A high-pitched wailing made him bolt upright.

What...?

The shrieking continued, a long, shrill, frantic noise.

The girl was screaming at the top of her lungs, full of panic.

Without a second thought he dropped out of the tree, landing on his feet nimbly, and raced up to the hut, drawing his scimitars while running.

He burst through the door, panting, ready to cut down whatever threatened her.

His gaze found her, on the ground, scuttled backwards as far as the chain would let her, yanking at the chain with every ounce of strength she could muster, desperately trying to free herself, still screaming at the top of her lungs in terror.

A large, formidable wolf stood just a few steps away from her, sniffing at the remnants of the stew in the bowl on the floor.

Still not thinking clearly, his heart thumping from the panic he had felt when he heard her scream, Bishop let go of his weapons, dropped to his knees next to her, and gathered her in his arms.

Holding her close, protectively hugged against his chest, catching her cheek in his hand, stroking softly, he pressed his forehead against her hair.

"Shhhhh", he whispered into her ear. "It's all right, it's all right, I'm here, I got you, you're safe. You're safe."

She stopped screaming, and her arms went around his neck, clinging to him as she buried her face at his shoulder, sobbing, shaking like a leaf.

He continued to hold her, stroking her hair, whispering soothingly into her ear, until she calmed, but still she clung to him as if he was her only hold in a freak storm.

He closed his eyes, his face in her hair, and waited for his heartbeat to return to normal. Gradually, his own shock subsided, and his brain resumed working.

Horrified, he lifted his face to meet Karnwyr's eyes as it slowly sank in what he had done.

Bloody, crying hells.


	11. Chapter 11 Truce

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

* * *

There was warmth, surrounding her.

Liliana stirred, her consciousness still hovering in the dark space between sleeping and waking, and smiled as she felt two strong arms wrapped protectively around her, the not unpleasant, rich scent that invaded her nostrils telling her that she was lying in a man's embrace.

_Cedric…_

She sighed contentedly and snuggled even closer against his shoulder, simply enjoying the feel of his arms around her, holding her, his hand softly stroking her hair, and she smiled sleepily as her cheek rubbed against the coarse stubble on his chin, chafing her skin.

He truly needed a shave.

Maybe she could do it in the morning, but right now, it just felt so good to lie here, sheltered in his arms, and so she was more than content to keep her eyes shut just a little longer, listening to the steady beat of his heart, inhaling his scent, that intoxicating odour of sun and leaves, and she sighed again, her heart swelling with her love for him. She felt his lips pressing a soft kiss on her temple, and so she lazily opened her eyes, a genuine smile on her face, eager to see the warm light in his soft, brown eyes.

"Cedric…?", she murmured tenderly.

"Not quite, princess."

The cold, sneering voice sent shivers of dread down her spine, banishing the last remnants of drowsiness from her mind while her heart started racing frantically in her chest, the memories of the previous night rushing back instantaniously, and her eyes widened with shock as her gaze did not meet her fiance's beloved face but Bishop's cold, unfeeling stare, a strange light burning in its amber depths.

He scowled, and his deep voice sounded cold and spiteful as he went on, his gaze wandering from her face to his chest and back again.

"The way you've been clinging to me, I guess you have an itch you want him to scratch."

His eyes bored hard into hers, and then his face contorted as if he had bitten on something both sour and vile, and the cruel, scathing tone in his voice made her want to cringe.

"Well, he's not here, and I'm not offering. Sorry to tell you, but I'm sober again. After some stiff drinks yesterday you sure looked more appealing. Just not interested in enduring the clumsy ministrations of a simpering maiden. So stop wrapping yourself around me like a damn constrictor snake and let me get up, will you?"

Liliana stared at him, her heart still beating madly, and for the first time, she actually realised how close she _had_ wrapped herself around him in her sleep, one leg pulled up over his, her arm still around his chest, like she was some street whore, begging for his attention, and she felt tears well up in her eyes as a vast wave of shame rippled through her body, drowning her, and so she hurriedly scurried away from him, back against the wall, never having felt more miserable in her whole life.

She heard him get to his feet, his short, sardonic laughter making her want to weep, and his malicious words pierced her like a thousand needles in her heart.

"Look at you, pathetic, weak, blubbering. You're disgusting. Gods, I really don't think I can take another day in your company. I'm leaving."

That words sent more shivers of dread down her spine, and she looked up at him, horrified, her sudden fear mingling strongly with the shame that was still rippling through her body.

_Please, don't leave me here alone to starve…_

Bishop snorted as soon as he saw the terrified expression on her face, that malicious undercurrent still very prominent in his voice.

"Don't piss your pants, princess, I'll be back. But I really need a break from your snivelling and die-away airs. A man can only suffer so much of that."

And with that, he turned around and walked over to kneel beside his backpack, rummaging through its depths, and Liliana averted her eyes, fighting the overwhelming urge to simply burst into tears, her whole body trembling from the exertion, her emotions in an uproar.

There were just no words for the shame she felt, for the disgust that was aimed directly at her weakness, her incredible stupidity. It was not so much the realisation that she had snuggled up against his shoulder in her sleep that disturbed her so, but the fact that she had not even realised her mistake until he had finally addressed her in his cold, scathing voice.

How could she have confused him with Cedric?

Cedric was always well shaved, would never allow himself to suffer from bad manners and laziness, like _he_ did, looking like a scoundrel with that shadow of facial hair that always darkened his chin. Cedric was a perfect gentleman who knew that it was appropriate to use perfume in the presence of a lady, and who had already proven his good taste with the choice of his aftershaves, whereas she doubted that _he_ had ever seen the interior of a bathhouse in his whole life.

So how come she had not realised her mistake, had snuggled even closer against his chest?

To imagine that she had felt so terrified when he had first laid down beside her last night, convinced that he had intended to use her shivering as a simple excuse to touch her again, just to find herself wrapped around him in the morning, sighing contentedly…

A soft, thumping noise made her look up again, and she saw that he had thrown his waterskin in her direction, the skin now lying only a few inches away from her feet, and she watched him move over to the chimney and start to fill some stew into his wooden bowl, his motions stiff and angry.

_Sorry to tell you, but I'm sober again. After some stiff drinks yesterday you sure looked more appealing._

Gods, she should be glad that he did not want her. The way she had pressed herself against him in her sleep - the thought alone was still enough to make her want to cringe with shame and embarrassment all over again - could have easily been misinterpreted, and only the gods knew what he would have done to her, had he actually been interested in her.

So why did it hurt so much to hear his sneering voice, telling her that she was such a pathetic and disgusting creature that he just wanted nothing to do with her, that he only condescended to touch her when he was drunk? Why did she give a damn what he thought about her? How could his opinion actually be important enough for her to try and appease him, when all she had ever gotten from him were his scathing remarks and that disgusted look on his face, telling her more than words could ever do about the way he truly felt about her - not to mention the fact that he was nothing but a common thug who wanted to kill her?

She heard his feet move over the floor and looked up to see him drop his bowl right next to his waterskin, spilling some stew onto the wooden beams in the process, and his eyes seemed to pierce her right down to the very core of her being as he spoke.

"Have fun, princess. Dream of your Cedric. He won't come to your rescue, but dreaming can't hurt."

His face was set in its usual scowl, his voice still cold and derisive, but for a fleeting moment, when he turned away from her to move towards the door, another emotion flickered across his face, and Liliana frowned as she watched him pick up his scimitars and then leave the hut, her sudden confusion mingling strongly with the shame and misery in her chest.

What was it she had seen in his eyes? For the length of a heartbeat, she had been convinced to see a different emotion shimmering through his cold, unfeeling indifference – something that had actually looked almost like hurt, like bitter disappointment.

But how could that be?

_I'm starting to imagine things._

She should be glad that he had left, should be glad to be alone, but all she could think about was his sneering voice, telling her how much he despised her, and his words actually stirred another memory, the memory of a conversation she had once overheard between Jeanne and Nathaniel, her friend telling the young man that she simply couldn't understand why Cedric had actually fallen in love with a girl like Liliana, one that surely was kind, but still so common and ordinary, compared to him.

_She never thought that I was worthy enough to marry Cedric,_ Liliana thought miserably, and all of a sudden, it felt like a dam was bursting inside her, and she started to cry hysterically, sobbing so violently that she actually found it hard to breathe, her heart aching painfully in her chest.

Where was her Cedric?

It had been almost three days since she had been kidnapped, and she still hadn't been rescued yet. But her family was well acquainted with some of the local mages in Waterdeep. So how come none of them had cast some kind of scrying spell, finding out about her location? How much more time would she be forced to spend in his company before she was safe again?

The way she and Cedric had parted that day, the memory of her cold words and childish anger, made her weep even more, until she finally rested on the floor, her throat rough from the exertion and her cheeks burning strongly from the torrent of tears that had streamed down her face, to stare up blindly at the roof of the hut, feeling so terribly empty.

What if…

The thought was too terrible to dwell on, but she couldn't stop herself from thinking. What if Cedric had been so angry with her that he didn't want her back anymore, maybe found her as tiresome as he did, not giving a damn what happened to her after she had treated him so mean?

_I'm such a sheep,_ Liliana thought as she forcefully rubbed her hands over her face, disgusted with her own stupidity. _Cedric is a kind man, and he loves me. Even if he didn't, he would come to my rescue. All he needs is a little more time…_

Time she would have to spend with _him_. Time where she needed to keep her head down, needed to become truly invisible to stay alive. Not to mention her fear that she would simply die of shame, should he ever mention the way she had clung to him this morning…

_You promised to mend his cloak._

That thought made her heart thump painfully in her chest. He was still angry with her. So the chance for him to reach for every excuse he could find to make her feel even more miserable, to point out all the things that made her useless in his eyes, was very real, and she would be damned if she simply sat here and let that happen.

But despite her strengthened resolve, she was still chained to the wall, and had to face the bitter truth after a while that, no matter how far she tried to stretch herself, she simply couldn't fetch neither his cloak nor his backpack, all lying in his part of the hut, just out of reach, and Liliana had to fight hard against the new assault of tears that threatened to well up in her eyes, determined not to give in to her weakness again.

_I am not useless. I can be strong!_

But her impotence at keeping her promise, the cruel reminder that she was actually nothing but the prisoner of a madman, chained to a wall, dampened her freshly risen spirits once and for all, and so she spent the following hours just lying on the ground, wrapped in her blanket against the cold, feeling lonely and miserable while her eyes stared blankly into space, only pausing in her lethargy to eat the cold stew without much appetite, the sudden wave of hopelessness that threatened to drown her dragging her down, wearing her out.

What had she done to deserve such a fate? She had always tried to be respectful to her parents, kind to her friends and generous with their employees, always doing her best to appease everyone's expectations. So what could she actually have done wrong that the gods were punishing her now this way, sending her through this nightmare?

So she lay there on the wooden beams for a long time, with noone but her thoughts to keep her company, trying her best not to let them drag her down even further, but as the hours ticked by, so painfully slowly, a part of her truly began to wish that he would simply return and finish what he was about to do to her, just to free her from that terrible emptiness inside her…

There was a growl, just outside the hut.

Liliana started and sat up straight with her back against the wall, her heart beginning to beat madly in her chest, all misery suddenly forgotten, and listened intently, the rising panic actually sharpening her senses.

The growl came again, even closer than before, and she could feel her innards turn to ice as the beat of her heart accelerated even more. There was an animal outside, making its way towards the door of the hut.

_Oh gods!_

What was she about to do? She was all on her own again, chained to a wall, unable to run, with noone who would come to her aid…

There was the sharp sound of claws scraping over wood, and with an ominous creak, the door of the hut opened ever so slowly, and Liliana's eyes widened in terror as she saw the large wolf that now stood in the doorframe, its yellowish gaze wandering through the hut, fixing on her.

With a terrified squeal, she retreated as far from the door as the chain would allow her, a part of her still hoping that the wolf would simply turn around and leave again, but it simply watched her for a long moment before it entered the hut, prowling closer and closer, its bright eyes never leaving her, hackling.

At the sight of the slowly approaching wolf, its sharp teeth glittering dangerously in the dim light, something seemed to snap inside her, and Liliana felt a wave of utmost terror drown her senses, a feeling so terribly intense that for a moment, she truly feared that she would simply faint from the sheer horror of the moment, and with another terrified squeal, she reached for the chain around her ankle and started to pull at it with all her might, not even realising that she was still screaming at the top of her lungs, the only thought left in her mind to remove the chain from the wall, to free herself, to make a run for the woods…

_Oh gods, please, help me, I don't want to die, not like this, please, somebody help me…_

There was the sudden sound of footsteps approaching, and then she felt herself pulled in a tight embrace, a hand softly stroking her cheek, and a deep voice, a man's voice, whispered soothingly into her ear.

"Shhhhh, It's all right, it's all right, I'm here, I got you, you're safe. You're safe."

Startled, she actually stopped pulling at the chain, and her heart gave a sudden, painful leap in her chest as she recognised the voice.

_Bishop!_

A wave of relief welled through her, a feeling so intense like she had never experienced before, and with a sob, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, desperate to hold on to him so he could take away her fear, her heart still beating madly from the terror that pulsated through her veins. She could feel his arms closing even more tightly around her, one of his hands softly stroking her hair while he continued to murmur soothingly into her ear, and she closed her eyes as a single tear trickled down her cheek, her chest swelling with emotions she could not even name as she lay there in his arms, shaking like a leaf.

_He has come back!_

With her breathing still quick and shallow, and her heart still beating madly in her chest, she simply kept her eyes firmly closed, contend just to bury her face in his neck while his arms were still closed protectively around her, listening to the steady beat of his heart and breathing in his scent, his mere presence already enough to miraculously calm her fear.

It was then, as her heartbeat finally returned back to normal and her thoughts actually stopped racing through her head like a bunch of panicked mice, when she felt him tense all of a sudden, lifting his head, and a cold shiver ran down her spine as she suddenly realised how close she had wrapped her arms around him in her relief, her head still buried in his neck, and she tensed, waiting for his scathing remark, taunting her for her weakness one more time…

But it never came.

He simply sat there, holding her in his arms, one hand still in her hair, and she could feel his breath warm on her neck and shoulders as her heart began beating madly once again, but now for completely different reasons.

What was she about to do? She could not simply stay like this, couldn't she?

But if she moved away from him now, was he not bound to say something cruel and scathing to her then, glaring at her with that cold, unfeeling look in his eyes, like he always did?

_Gods, I know this isn't real, but please, let me imagine just for one moment that he actually cares about me…_

So she simply kept still, unmoving, her arms wrapped around him while her face was still buried in his neck, her whole body tense like a spring, waiting in fearful anticipation for the moment when he would finally move away from her, breaking the spell and destroying this small illusion of peace with a single, caustic remark.

But the moments ticked by, and he still made no move to turn away from her, just holding her in his arms, not saying a word, his closeness and continued silence finally making her nervous, and Liliana felt as if each and every muscle in her body was already beginning to ache from the unusual strain as she desperately tried to think of a way to get away from him, but without igniting his temper.

_Maybe…_

"Bishop?", she asked hesitatingly, glad that the fabric of his tunic actually muffled the sound of her voice, hiding its treacherous tremble.

For another long moment, he just kept his silence, making her wonder whether he had heard her at all, but then she felt him lift his head a little, and his voice sounded surprisingly hoarse as he replied.

"Yes?"

Liliana swallowed, her heart racing, but now that she had addressed him, she couldn't back away anymore.

"I need to ans…", she began, but then stopped herself as her common sense suddenly kicked in. The memory of his cruel laughter and sneering voice, mocking her when she had used that phrase before, was still very vivid in her mind, and so she cleared her throat to gain some time before she tried it again, determined not to hand him just another opportunity to mock her. "I _really_ need to use the bushes now."

For a moment, she fought with herself, but then lifted her head as well, looking him squarely in the eyes while her pulse began to pound loudly in her ears. For the length of several heartbeats, he just looked at her, his face blank while his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but then she saw his shoulders actually relax a little and he laughed, that deep, melodious sound that she had only heard once before, its warm timbre making her shiver.

With a crooked smile, Bishop lifted one of his hands to smooth one of her silvery locks out of her face, and Liliana felt a shiver of a different sort run down her spine as his hand caressed her cheek, just staring up into his unusual eyes, strangely fascinated all of a sudden, their warm, amber glow drawing her in, inviting her to lean closer, luring her into their burning depths...

"Sure. Just let me get that chain off."

She blinked, confused as his voice suddenly broke the spell, and her eyes widened in shock as she finally realised what she had almost done, her face just inches away from his own, and the warm shiver that had just run down her spine suddenly turned into a hundred little insects, crawling over her skin.

Unbelieving, she quickly averted her gaze as he leaned back to fetch the key from around his neck, feeling strangely guilty and ashamed all of a sudden… and her eyes fell on the wolf that was still standing only a few feet away from her, well and alive, staring at her with its yellowish eyes.

She jumped, a small yelp escaping her lips as she tried to scurry away again, but was stopped as she felt Bishop's hand closing firmly around her upper arm, his grip surprisingly gentle despite its certainty.

„Get a grip, princess. He's with me", he said gruffly, but strangely enough did not look up, as if not wanting to meet her eyes. She stared at him, her eyes wide while her heart beat madly in her chest, her mind racing.

"With you?", she gasped, confused. Her panicked gaze wandered back to the wolf, who was now licking the remnants of her stew out of the wooden bowl with devotion, and finally, she understood.

"He's your companion.", she whispered weakly, feeling like a sheep just again that she had not even considered that possibility. Bishop nodded, still not meeting her eyes, letting go of her arm and then reaching down for her ankle to open the ring, and Liliana shivered as she felt his hand brushing against the skin of her calf, making goosebumbs rise all over her body.

Quickly, she jumped to her feet as soon as he had opened the lock, suddenly desperate to be alone for a while, to put some distance between them, and made her way to the door, but not without giving his wolf a wide berth, her mind still in an uproar.

The dim light of a dull and grey day greeted her as she stepped out of the door, the earth and leaves under her bare feet still damp from the rain, but Liliana did not care, making her way to the thicket close to the hut like a woman in her sleep, feeling strangely numb, hollow.

After she had finished what she had come to do, she sat down on a tree stump near by, burying her head in her hands, staring blindly at her feet, her mind racing.

How could this have happened?

He was the villain, after all, the man who had kidnapped her against her will, the one who kept her chained to a wall, even intended to kill her.

So how could she just lie there in his arms, breathing in his scent, feeling safe, even sheltered in his embrace? How was it possible that she had almost forgotten herself, mesmerized by the sudden warmth she had seen in his eyes, realising for the first time how handsome he could actually look with a smile on his face, without his usual scowl…

_Stop! Stop! Stop!_

With a small, desperate moan, she pressed her hands firmly against her eyes, feeling both terribly ashamed and embarrassed of herself all over again. What was just wrong with her? How could she think about him this way, evil, unscrupulous thug that he was?

_He came for me._

A strange, fluttering feeling rose in her chest, making her feel warm and fuzzy all of a sudden, and although she tried her best to fight it down again, she couldn't keep her mind from wandering. Even after all the things he had said to her this morning, he had come back for her, no doubt hearing her screams at the sight of his wolf. No matter how cruel his words or how harsh the sound of his voice, he had come back to protect her.

And that was a part of the problem, wasn't it?

That she had seen this glimpse of that other man again, of the man that he once used to be, a man who actually cared, who did not scowl at her, who could be gentle, and kind.

A man she could like.

_I'm going insane,_ Liliana thought bitterly, the moist chill in the air finally making her shiver, and so she pulled her legs close to her body, hugging herself, confusion and shame mingling strongly in her chest. _That's the only explanation. All this fear and distress is finally doing something with my head. That's why I'm getting all these strange feelings, starting to confuse things._

But what was she about to do now? She could not stay out here forever, no matter how desperately she wished to be alone for a while. In the end, he would just come out looking for her, and what would she say to him then, should he ask her what had taken her so long?

With a sigh, she got to her feet, and slowly returned to the hut, her heart feeling strangely heavy all of a sudden, unsure what she would find at her return. Had he turned back into his cold, unfeeling self again, ready to lash out at her with his sharp tongue as soon as she crossed the treshold? Or would she have to face that other man again, the one who would look at her without malice in his amber eyes and a smile on his face, a smile that would smooth the harsh lines around his mouth, make it look softer somehow, and almost tender…

Her heart gave a sudden leap at that thought, and frightened, she had to realise that she could not tell which possibility scared her the most anymore.

It seemed as if she had forgotten to close the door behind her, because as she neared the entrance of the hut, she could hear Bishop's voice drifting through the opened door, talking to his companion, and there was a strange undercurrent to his words that she had never heard before, surprising her.

"I'm in trouble, boy."

Carefully, she peered into the hut and saw him still sitting on the ground, his companion now lying at his feet, and watched in silence how he gently stroked the animal's head, obviously deep in his thoughts.

As if it had understood the man's comment, the wolf turned its head a little to look up at its master, its furry brows raised in a way that seemed to say _Aren't you always_?

Bishop shook his head, slowly scratching his companion's ear, that strange note still in his voice, and sighed.

"Not like that, believe me."

Suddenly, the wolf turned its head, sensing her presence, and Bishop looked up, an unreadable expression on his face. It was not the cool, indifferent mask that she had gotten so used to over the past few days, but another, much more complex expression, and if she had not known better, she would have said that he looked confused somehow, even almost insecure.

Liliana swallowed, her heart beginning to beat nervously in her chest, and slowly made her way towards him, not knowing what to do. Should she thank him? Or was it actually better to act as if nothing had ever happened, to pretend that things had not somehow changed between them?

"What's his name?", she finally asked shyly, inclining her head in the wolf's direction, and was somewhat glad to hear her voice trembling only ever so slightly. Bishop watched her slow approach, his hand still buried in his companion's thick, grey fur, stroking its head, and then returned his attention to the wolf at his feet, almost as if he did not want to meet her gaze.

"Karnwyr.", he replied curtly, that strange current still in his voice.

"Can I…" For a moment, her voice faltered, and Liliana swallowed nervously, wondering whether she was finally going too far, stretching her luck, only to realise that she actually did not care anymore. Her life was such a mess already, how could things actually get any worse? So she drew a deep breath, gathered her courage, and addressed him one more time, her voice now calm and steady.

"Can I pet him, too?"

For one fleeting moment, she truly thought that she had overstepped her bounds this time. But Bishop simply cast her a quick glance out of the corner of his eye and then moved to the side, inclining his head in what seemed to be a _Go-on-if-you-must_ sort-of gesture.

Carefully, her heart still beating nervously, Liliana stepped closer and kneeled beside the wolf, holding out a shivering hand. The wolf lifted its head to sniff at her fingers, and then laid down on its paws again, watching her with a disturbingly intelligent look in its gleaming eyes, an almost curious expression on its furry face. She gulped, and after a fast prayer to the gods, lowered her hand onto its forehead, carefully stroking the short pelt.

The fur felt surprisingly soft under her fingers, thick but smooth, and as the moments ticked by and the wolf did nothing but lie peacefully there on the ground, neither growling nor snapping at her fingers, she relaxed a little, and suddenly, the wonder of touching a wild animal filled her heart, and she looked up at Bishop, smiling.

He had watched her petting the wolf, that unreadable expression still on his face, but at the sight of her genuine smile, she saw the corner of his mouth lift with the ghost of a smile, and there was something like an approving glint in his eyes that made her quickly return her attention to the wolf again, feeling all of a sudden as if her heart was gently squeezed in her chest. Trying to distract herself from that unwelcome and disturbing notion, she leaned a little closer towards the wolf, its heady scent filling her nostrils.

"I'm sorry that I screamed at you,", she murmured quietly into its ear, softly stroking its head, "but you scared me."

„Didn't think you had it in you to pet a wolf, little mouse."

She cast him a quick glance, still softly stroking the wolf's head, and saw that he was still watching her intently, an estimating look in his eyes, and there was a tone of grudging respect in his voice that made her heart flutter ever so slightly in her chest.

"When I was still hunting with my grandfather,", she replied quietly, not daring to look at him again, her own courage startling even herself, "there was a half-elven ranger scouting for the party - Marisana. She had a bear companion, a huge, grim-looking fellow, and all the other children were scared of him, because he had a scar on his face that made him look really mean."

She frowned, still softly stroking the wolf's head, as the long buried memories came rushing back in an instant.

"But he wasn't. He was actually very kind, and Marisana allowed me to come and pet him when my mother wasn't looking. He always liked it to be scratched behind his ears, he always started to growl deep in his chest whenever someone scratched him that way…"

She stopped, suddenly afraid to annoy him with her chatter. He kept silent for a while, and she could feel his gaze upon her, but still did not dare to look him in the eyes, afraid of what she would see on his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was bland, with a faint hint of boredom.

"Why did you stop hunting?", he asked, indifferently.

Although the tone of his voice made her newfound courage wavering, Liliana drew a deep breath and simply continued talking, softly stroking the wolf's head, carefully scratching its ears. Everything was better than to just sit here in awkward silence, waiting for him to return to his nasty self.

His indifference, she could handle. But his scathing remarks…

"Mother."

Even after all this years, Liliana was surprised to feel the sharp pain tugging at her heart like it had just been yesterday.

"I always loved being out in the woods and following the scouts, watching them at their work. But mother said that it just wasn't appropriate for a fine, young woman _to indulge herself in the men's fancies_, and so I had to keep myself away from the hunt as I grew up."

She stopped, startled to hear the sniding tone in her voice. What was she doing, talking about her mother like this, to a stranger like him? She heard him chuckle at her words, the melodious sound sending another shiver down her spine, and a new wave of shame welled through her as the squeezing feeling in her heart seemed only to intensify at the sound.

„You always do what other people tell you, don't you, mousie?", he snorted, with a hint of his usual derisive sneer.

For a moment, the squeezing in her heart became even stronger, but now in an embarrassing and almost painful way, and so Liliana kept her eyes solely fixed on the wolf lying at her feet, confusion and shame beginning to mingle strongly in her chest, not knowing what to say to him anymore. What was happening to her? How was he doing that to her, saying these things and making her feel like a sheep just because she did what was expected of her? And what would Cedric think, could he actually see her here like this, petting a wolf and talking to her abductor as if he was her partner at table at one of her parent's summernight banquets?

_I am a bad girl, she thought miserably, bad and stupid. If I was actually a good girl, I would not feel like this. And this would not have happened to me. Never._

They sat in silence for a while, the wolf lying comfortably between them, until Bishop finally got up and made his way back to his part of the hut. She could hear him rummaging through his possessions, but still did not dare to look up at him, her eyes still fixed on his companion, until she finally heard him donning his leathers again. She reluctantly lifted her head, her eyes taking in the sight of his lithe figure, standing close to the door, and was startled to see him fastening the straps of his quiver across his chest, his scimitars already sheathed at his side, looking ready to leave.

"Where are you going?", she asked before she could stop herself, cringing inwardly at the very prominent note of alarm that she could hear in her voice, feeling a sudden, urgent desire to slap herself.

_Sheep! Stupid, stupid sheep!_

He cast her a quick glance while he closed the last clasp of his quiver, and then reached down for his bow before he finally made his way back towards her, his voice slightly mocking as he replied.

"To see if I can find some more rabbits, little mouse. You'd like to eat something tonight, wouldn't you?"

For a moment, she thought that he would reach down with a hand and caress her cheek again, but he just lifted his hand to let it go through his short, reddish-brown hair, his voice sounding sharper all of a sudden, but still miles away from its usual sneer. He inclined his head in the direction of the wolf.

"Karnwyr will keep an eye on you while I'm gone."

She swallowed as her heartbeat slowly returned to normal, staring up into his unusual eyes, trying to calm her sudden fear.

"I see.", she whispered quietly, her voice sounding somewhat strained even in her own ears.

For the length of several heartbeats, he just looked down at her, his eyes watching her intently.

"Wanna go hunting again, little mouse?", he asked all of a sudden in an unusually quiet voice, studying her face.

She stared up at him, her eyes wide, as puzzlement and uncertainty mingled strongly with a sudden bolt of excitement, the beat of her heart speeding up just once more.

"You mean… _really_?", she stammered, still not trusting her ears.

He rolled his eyes, and his voice was its gruff, usual self again as he replied.

"_Really_.", he replied acidly, mimicking her high, unbelieving voice with a very prominent note of growing impatience in his words. "But make it quick, princess, I don't have all day to stay here and wait for you to make up your mind."

"Yes!", she replied hastily, jumping to her feet so quickly that she almost kicked his companion with her bare feet in the process. The wolf threw her a long glance and then got lazily to his feet as well, yawning widely in the process and showing that very impressive amount of sharp teeth again. Liliana stared up into Bishop's face, her heart beating fast with both excitement and, surprisingly enough, even without the slightest hint of fear.

"Yes,", she repeated, her voice almost pleading with him. "I'd really like to come with you."

Bishop studied her with a dark expression on his face, looking like he was already regretting to have offered her the opportunity at all, and for a moment, she feared that he would just snarl at her to stay behind, and would leave without another word. But instead, he let his eyes wander from her face down to her dress, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully in the process, and then turned around again to reach for his backpack, throwing her a pair of breeches and the remnants of his shrunken tunic.

"Here, take these. With that frippery dress of yours, you'd only scare away every single deer in the vicinity.", he said gruffly, still looking like he would have loved to tell her to stay behind. Liliana stared at his shrunken tunic and trews, now gathered in her arms, and swallowed, her hands feeling surprisingly cold all of a sudden. He watched her staring at his clothes, frowning.

"What?", he snarled, with a clear hint of annoyance in his voice.

She gulped, not quite meeting his eyes.

"I… I need someone to open the laces of my dress.", she replied in a small voice, casting him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, her cheeks already reddening with embarrassment.

For the length of a heartbeat, he just stared at her. Then a strange expression flickered across his face, and with a soft hiss, he moved over to her, that foreboding expression darkening his eyes again.

"Turn around.", he growled, his voice highly annoyed now, and so Liliana hastened to comply, quickly lifting her hair with slightly trembling hands so that he could reach the laces of her corsage. She could feel his hands on her back, loosening the laces, and bit her lower lip to keep silent, for he just pulled roughly at the cords until the corsage was opened enough to allow her to slip out of the dress, making her twitch in the process.

"I'll fetch your shoes.", he growled on his way to the door, and she turned aroud, surprised how strained his voice sounded all of a sudden. "When I come back and you're not ready, I'll leave without you."

She nodded, and then hastened to get out of her dress and into his tunic and breeches as soon as he had left the hut, the outlook of getting away from this place for a while actually making her giddy, her pulse speeding up with excitement. She had just pulled up his much too large trews as she heard him enter the hut again, her shoes in his hand, and Liliana knew that she had to look rather odd in his clothes, judging from the way his eyebrows raised as he looked at her, a sudden, amused glint in his eyes.

"Do you have a belt for me?", she asked in that small, pleading voice again, her cheeks still feeling like they had caught fire.

Bishop did not reply, but just went over to his backpack and, after throwing her her shoes, started to cut a length of rope with the knife from the sheath across his chest while she hastened to fasten the laces of her shoes, fumbling with the knots in her hurry.

_I will go hunting again._

At that thought, her heart gave an enthusiastic thump in her chest as she took the length of rope from him to bind his breeches tightly around her waist, looking up at him expectantly.

"Ready!", she announced as soon as she had closed the knot of the rope.

For a long moment, he simply continued to stare at her, that dark look still in his eyes and his usual scowl back on his face, before he finally turned around and set out for the woods without another word, forcing her to hurry past him, trying to keep up with his quick pace. Liliana watched his leather-clad back in the grey light of day as they reached the first line of trees, and couldn't keep herself from shaking her head, disbelief and excitement still mingling strongly in her chest.

_Gods, I know that this must be the weirdest story I have ever heard of – but right now, I actually don't mind being a part of it anymore._

And with a rapt, little smile, she followed him into the undergrowth.


	12. Chapter 12 The Hunt

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

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_Wanna go hunting again, little mouse?_

As he walked through the gloomy afternoon woods, grey light filtering sparsely through the canopy of the leaves, Bishop could only wonder what had possessed him to speak those words.

By all nine hells, he was supposed to kill her, not teach her how to find her way in the woods!

But the image of her, sitting at his feet, stroking Karnwyr's head... she had really surprised him there. And not much surprised him anymore.

It had been less that she found the courage to pet the wolf – well, that was a bit of a surprise, too. Most of what he had seen of her yet was scared girlie-girl.

He could not stop the wry grin that tugged at his mouth. Might have been a bit his doing, that. He'd done his best to keep her in a state of perpetual terror. But then, you could only be afraid for so long.

No, the really surprising thing had been that she _wanted_ to touch the wolf. He'd have thought she would be too afraid to get her hands dirty in the process. But she really had been eager, had enjoyed stroking Karnwyr's fur. It had been so obvious in her face, that rapt little smile and the light in her eyes while she looked at his companion.

And the wistfulness in her voice, the longing on her face when she talked about her childhood, about the bear companion of that other ranger, and how much she had loved to spend time in the woods.

While he normally would have just shut out such boring prattle about childhood stories, hers struck a chord in him.

If there was anyone who understood the need to feel the freedom of the wilds, it was him. The thought of being forced to give that up, to be pressed into that prison of a life instead, with cumbersome dresses, rules left and right, tea parties and whatnot, full of stupid blabber, surrounded by blathering, gossiping, insipid so-called society...

He could not help but feel a stab of pity, even if it had been her own fault for listening to what her mother said.

And so, somehow, that cursed sentence had escaped him.

But there might be a bright side to this. Maybe the excitement of the hunt would make her forget about his blunder when Karnwyr first showed up...

He still wanted to slap himself for that. What ever had been going through his head?

Nothing. That was the sad truth. Nothing had been going through his head.

He had acted on pure instinct, every conscious thought gone when he heard her screaming. Only the urge to throw himself at whatever was threatening her left, his heart pounding with the fear that he might be too late, he had hurled himself into the hut, and when he had realised that it was only Karnwyr, that there was no real danger...

He could still see her, yanking at the chain, screaming, nearly out of her mind with fright. And before his brain started working again, he had dropped next to her, gathered her into his arms, only wanting to calm her down, to soothe her, to take away her fear... _because he could not bear to see her like this._

As he had told Karnwyr, he truly was in trouble.

How could he let her crawl under his skin? If he continued this way, it would get really hard to kill her in the end.

All the more reason to get it over with. He'd do it. Tomorrow, he'd do it. The bruises had faded enough, so that hopefully no one would find anything amiss when they found the body. And a couple of days in the water, not to mention scores of hungry fish, would not make her any prettier, and probably obscure the last traces of his cock up at the cliffs.

For now, he'd try and act normally, see that he caught something to eat for tonight without her getting into the way too much. Then an early night, and tomorrow, farewell princess.

And he would be rid of her and all that unwanted memories she stirred.

At the moment, he'd keep up the charade. Would not do to let her know her end was drawing near. Not when he had been so addlebrained to take her out on this little jaunt. She would panic, probably try to run away again, he'd have to subdue her, and very likely there would be new bruises.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. She looked like a tomboy in his much too large breeches, bound tight around her narrow waist with the length of rope he'd cut. Her long, silvery hair was in wild tangles, falling into her face, which was flushed with excitement. Her eyes were bright, and she threw him a happy smile, like a child out for adventure.

The absurd trust that shone through her smile seemed to squeeze his heart, and he wanted to turn and shake her, yell at her.

_Don't look at me like that, stupid cow! I'm about to kill you, remember? How can you look at me like I'm your best pal and we're out for a picnic?_

She was _happy_ to be here, with him.

She smiled at him as if she _liked_ him.

She must be at least as corkbrained as he.

He felt the urge to go and bang his head against some tree, but he simply turned away, groaning inwardly, and proceeded through the trees.

At least she kept up with him.

In fact, she kept up astonishingly well, considering the stupid sort of footwear she had. And without that silly skirt, she even managed to walk fairly quietly. It had taken her a couple of minutes, but in the end, she simply had started to watch where he stepped and mimicked his moves, and the result was better than he had thought possible. Might even catch some deer despite having her in tow.

Another surprise.

He held up his hand as something caught his eye, and stopped. The girl moved up quietly and whispered: "What is it?"

Without thinking, he pulled her near and pointed ahead, at the depression in the ground, the earth dark, moist and furrowed.

She followed his pull willingly, leaned against him and looked ahead, and then turned her face up, a question in her bright eyes. Still leaning against his chest.

No hint of fear. So damned trusting.

What _was_ she thinking?

"Wild pigs?", she whispered.

He nodded and put his finger of his mouth, and obediently, she stayed quiet. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his hearing.

Wind through the leaves. Birds singing. Insects humming. A rustle in the undergrowth, but relatively far away. No wild pigs in the vicinity. He would have heard them, they were not famous for their stealth.

The girl rested her head on his shoulder.

He wanted to weep. If she was on to punish him, she was doing a wonderful job of it. Screaming, crying, begging... he could handle that. Could ignore it, could let it bounce off of him. But that sudden, open, unwarranted faith she seemed to have in him – he did not know how to react to that.

No one had ever trusted him before this way. And for a good reason.

He'd _told_ her what he was about to do, hadn't he? So why, _why_ did she act like this?

He told himself to hang on. Just this day to endure, and tomorrow it would all end. He could do it. Just one more day.

He disentangled himself and said: "They're not around. Let's have a look."

Without looking at her, he proceeded to the depression in the earth, crouching down and examining the ground. She followed his example.

"See this?", he said, pointing at an imprint in the earth, looking like a broad triangle, split in the middle and pulled apart at the tip, with two tiny triangles set back a bit from the lower corners of the big one. "Track of a wild pig." Anything to talk about, anything to take his mind into another direction.

"Will you teach me how to follow it?", she asked, eagerly.

She really was enjoying this.

"Nah", he said, keeping his eyes on the tracks. A good way to avoid looking at her. "You don't want to meet a wild boar. Or a sow with young. They can get nasty. Let's find something smaller."

He got to his feet and she hopped up, energetically. "Alright", she said, sounding chipper.

Gods, he hated her.

Still refusing to look at her, he turned and started in a direction, away from the tracks of the pigs. Deer tended to avoid wild pigs, too.

After maybe half an hour, his eyes found another track, this one like a split triangle too, but much narrower, and the two halves flush together, at the broad end of each half something like a big dot.

He pointed them out to her, and she wordlessly looked at him, questioningly.

He'd have to give her that, she could keep quiet, and seemed to know when to be silent. She had not talked much since they had started out, and what little she had said she had kept short and quiet. A rare trait in a woman.

"Deer", he said under his breath. "Fresh track. Can you follow it?"

Her eyes sparkling, she smiled at him and passed him, taking care not to step on the track.

Not bad.

She crouched down, scanning the ground, her brows drawn together. It took her a couple of moments to spot the half track maybe two yards away, but she found it in the end, pointing and throwing him a questioning glance again.

He nodded, impressed despite himself. That one had not been easy to see. She had sharp eyes, no denying that.

Very, very slowly they followed the track of the deer. Once or twice he had to point out a nearly obscure imprint to her, or a freshly nipped branch, or some upturned leaves, but she did surprisingly well.

A shame she had listened to that dimwit of a mother. She had talent, could have been a decent ranger.

Now, of course, it was too late. Because by this time tomorrow, she would be fish fodder.

But a shame, nonetheless.

When he could see from the tracks that they must have nearly caught up with the deer he touched her shoulder, and when she looked at him, he motioned at her to stay put. She nodded, and he took his bow from his shoulder, an arrow out of the quiver and after determining the direction of the wind, began to circle round.

Soon, he saw the deer, browsing at some young leaves.

Nocking his arrow, he took careful aim and let it fly. It embedded itself into the deer's eye, and without a sound it fell, instantly dead.

Bishop put his bow back over his shoulder and hoisted the deer up, returning to where he'd left the girl, fully expecting her to get all teary because of the poor deer.

She had not moved much, and though he walked quietly, her head turned as he approached. Good ears, too.

Pity she had to die.

Her eyes went to the deer and widened a bit. But instead of the piece about the poor, dead deer, she said: "I wish I could shoot like that!", her voice full of awe and envy.

She'd surprised him again.

"Can you shoot, mousie?", he said, full of disbelief.

She shook her head. "No, not really. My grandfather showed me once, when I was little, but my mother would have none of it. And then... then I started playing with the girls, and there was no opportunity to learn anymore..."

He put down the deer and took his bow again.

"Come here", he said.

She stepped closer, throwing him another questioning glance.

"Take it", he said, handing her the bow and taking out an arrow.

She took the bow, slowly, hesitatingly, suddenly looking shy. As if she was touching some kind of relic.

He stepped around her, behind her, his chest against her back, and reached out, took the bow again and placed it in her left hand, putting his own hand over hers.

"Like this", he said. "Hold it firmly, but not rigid."

Handing her the arrow, he took her right hand into his, guiding it to the string, showing her how to nock the arrow.

"Now, pull", he said. She did, and he helped her, until the bow was drawn.

"Feel that?", he asked. "Just try to get a feel for the position, how to hold it. Even if the bow is too large and heavy for you. You'd need a much smaller, lighter one to handle properly."

She nodded, eager again, and leaned back against him.

It was the potatoes all over again. He had her in his arms, so warm and fragrant, and her hair tickled his chin, and his heart was speeding up, and breathing seemed to take a lot of effort...

How could she still smell so good, after all the time they had spent in the hut?

And why did she always end up in his arms?

His own damn fault, too. What was he doing here, showing her how to shoot an arrow? No bloody use, because she was dead already, right? Besides, he'd never felt any inclination to teach his skills to ranger wannabes. He had better things to do. Just could not think of something at the moment.

Well, he'd started it, so he'd best finish it to get her out of his arms and into a safe distance again.

He swallowed and tried to sound even. "Now, when you let go of the string, take care not to move the other arm. If you get hit by the string, it hurts like hell."

She nodded again, and he made some minor corrections to her stance, repressing the urge to nuzzle her neck, so tantalisingly close.

"Let go by three", he said, slightly hoarse. "One... two... three."

They both let go, and the arrow flew, ending up sticking out of the trunk of a large oak.

She turned in his arms, hopping with excitement, giggling delightedly. "Again!" she exclaimed. "I want to try again!"

No way!

He stepped back, taking the bow and putting it on his back. Then he stepped up to the tree, yanked the arrow out and put it back into the quiver.

"Party's over, princess", he growled. With that, he hoisted up the dead deer and began the march back to the hut, leaving her to follow as best as she could. He just walked swiftly, not looking back at her, but keeping his ears concentrated backwards. If her steps ceased to follow him, he'd hear. No need to look at her.

Amazingly, she still did not try to run.

xxx

Back at the hut, Bishop sent the girl ahead, with Karnwyr to guard her. He stayed back in the trees, to clean out the deer and bury the entrails. He needed some alone time to clear his head.

He'd have to be more careful. Keep some distance. He'd told himself countless times - about time to start listening to himself, it was good advice. Just so damn hard to do, when she stirred up all those emotions he had worked so hard to bury.

He intended to take his time, not to get back until he had his bearings together again, but he could not shake an uneasy feeling that crept up in him as soon as the girl was out of his sight. He was working on the deer, telling himself he was being stupid, that everything was fine, and that Karnwyr was with her, when he heard the wolf's voice, raised to an angry howl, telling him something _was_ wrong.

Damn! Should have listened to his guts – they usually were right.

Cursing, he drew his scimitars and hurried until he could see the hut through the trees. Pressing behind the trunk of a large oak, he peered around and stole a quick glance at the hut. The door was open, and no one in sight. He could hear Karnwyr's deep growl from inside.

Quietly, Bishop crept up to the hut, taking care to crouch under the window, and approached the door from the side. He could hear a rough voice talking.

"Lookie here", the man said. "A chickie! How nice of her to drop by. Now, chickie, ye tell the lil' doggie to keep it down, unless he wants me to cut yer throat."

"He… He's not mine", the girl said, her voice shaking slightly, but obviously trying to sound brave. "I can't tell him what to do."

Karnwyr's growling increased.

"Kill the wolf", the coarse voice commanded. So there was more than one. Bishop tensed, ready to jump into the hut if they really attacked Karnwyr, smiling grimly. They would find the wolf harder to kill than they thought.

"No!", the girl cried out. "Leave him alone! You'll be sorry if you hurt him!"

She was defending Karnwyr?

A roar of laughter followed her words. Bishop tried to guess how many voices he heard, but could not be sure. Four? Five? Six? How strong might they be?

"Oh chickie, yer a blast, I can tell already. Who will make us sorry? Ye?"

"No", she said, and the tremor was gone from her voice. Instead, there was a snide undercurrent. "Not me. But his master will. Believe me, you don't want to make him angry." She sounded sure of her words, and, oddly enough, proud.

Strangely touched by her words, Bishop felt an irrational stab of pride himself at her show of courage.

There was a cacophony of raucous laughter again.

"Oh chickie", the coarse voice answered. "Think we're afraid of one man? There are five of us, and we have ye."

"That probably won't make much of a difference", Bishop heard her murmur under her breath.

So they were five. He could take on five, as long as they were not too strong. Bishop straightened himself a bit and cautiously peered through the window into the hut.

He could see five figures, all in various, but advanced stages of neglect. Shabby clothing, long, stringy hair, shaggy beards, and their grins showed the blackened remnants of what once must have been teeth. Two stood just a step into the hut, their backs turned to the door. Two had their weapons drawn, holding Karnwyr in check, who was still growling viciously, his hackles raised, his impressively large teeth bared. The last one had the girl, her arm wrenched behind her back.

Bishop repressed a similar growl that rose in his chest. That impudent dog! He'd make him pay for that.

"See, chickie", the son of a bitch who held her leered, "ye've been sleeping in our house, eating our food. Me thinks ye got to pay for that. So me and the boys will have us some fun tonight, after we killed yer lover. What do you say, boys?"

The other men cheered. Bishop made use of the noise and crept up to the door. There, he got up silently, gripping his left scimitar so that the blade was flat against his wrist and arm, and then reached into the door, gripping the first man by his collar while he stepped into the doorway, yanking the bastard back, against his chest, digging the blade of his second scimitar under his chin.

"Sorry boys, the plan just changed", he said sharply, and the cheer stopped abruptly, while all eyes turned to him. "Release the girl, or this one bites it."

"Ye're bluffin'", the first one said, wrenching harder on the girl's arm. She winced, but tried not to make a sound.

Cold fury coiled in Bishop's stomach, and the corners of his mouth lifted in a cruel smile. With a fluent motion, he slit his hostage's throat and threw the still twitching body against the second man standing next to him, who just stood, gaping in surprise and not able to react yet.

"No, I'm really not", he said, baring his teeth in a small, mean smile.

The first one yelled in anger, wrenching even harder at the girl's arm, starting to draw his blade with the other hand. This time, a pained whimper escaped her.

Bishops eyes narrowed to angry slits, and a feral growl escaped his throat while the cold fury in him turned to hot rage. With a flick of his wrist, he threw his scimitar. It drew a perfect arc, spinning once in the air, and embedded itself in the forehead of the bastard that _dared_ to hurt his girl. The man dropped before his weapon had even left its sheath.

The girl yelped as the weapon passed her face with only inches to spare, but moved her back to the wall as soon as her captor fell to the ground, rubbing her hurting shoulder. Bishop gave the dying man on the floor a look of deep satisfaction.

No one touched what was his.

But the other three had used his moment of distraction to surround him, yelling with shock and anger. He turned just in time to block one attack with his scimitar, and ducked the second, but the cutlass of the one behind him bit into his shoulder, leaving a deep, bleeding gash.

Karnwyr's growl rose to a crescendo, and he jumped the attacker behind Bishop, throwing him to the ground.

"The girl!", Bishop yelled, crouching, drawing the dagger he had hidden in his boot. "Guard her!"

The wolf took one savage bite to the throat of his victim and moved over to stand in front of the girl, blood dripping from between his bared teeth.

The two standing in front of Bishop swung their weapons, aiming for his throat, but he jumped, diving forward under their swords, rolling gracefully, ending up on his feet behind his two adversaries. Swiftly, he switched the weapons, so that he held the scimitar in his main hand.

The third man was just scrambling to his feet, holding his bleeding throat, coughing painfully. He glanced at the girl indecisively, but when he saw the viciously snarling wolf standing before her, he quickly stumbled some steps backwards.

The other two turned to face Bishop again, and he pirouetted, whirling around, his scimitar drawing a deep, bloody gash over one man's chest, the dagger blocking the other's attack. The second one, not expecting Bishop's movement, missed wildly.

Using the momentum of his pirouette, Bishop let the dagger fly, and it ended up stuck in the throat of the wounded man. This one went down with a gurgling noise.

The second one, his eyes wide with sudden fear, retreated a step, but Bishop followed, a wild grin on his face that seemed to unnerve his opponent even more. Bishop saw the weapon waver uncertainly, and, making use of the opening, ran the last attacker through with his scimitar, twisting it with a turn of his wrist and yanking it out with an upwards ripping motion.

The forth one down. Slowly, determinedly, the savage grin still on his face, Bishop turned to face the last one standing, the one Karnwyr had bitten, the one keeping his back to the wall, clutching at his wounded throat.

"I… I give", the man coughed as Bishop approached, dropping his weapon. "Don't kill me, please!"

"Sorry", Bishop said, coldly. "No witnesses."

With these words, he pierced the man with his scimitar, drawing it up and slicing him open.

Then he dropped his weapon and turned, his heart still pounding from the fight and the worry. Two quick paces brought him to the girl's side, his eyes scanning her for injuries. To his relief, he could not detect any, no blood or gashes. He took her chin into his hand and lifted it, to check her throat, but it was unhurt, only the last, faded remnants of the bruises he had given her left. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply, while his body slowly calmed. That had been close. She could have been hurt. She could have been killed.

But other than the shocked expression on her face she seemed fine. He did not want to dwell on the relief that flooded through him. And the grim satisfaction he felt at the death of those freaks that had dared to threaten his girl.

_His girl._

Oh boy, was he in trouble.

He turned abruptly and bent down to yank out his scimitar out of the head of the corpse lying next to her, the grating sound making her wince. Without looking up he cleaned his swords on the dead man's clothes.

He felt her hand touch his shoulder tentatively, her fingers shaking slightly. "You're hurt", she said softly.

Bishop shrugged her hand off. "Never mind. Just a scrape."

With that, he got up, the dead man over his shoulder.

She grabbed his arm. "You're bleeding. Let me have a look.", she insisted.

No, no, no. No more touching. Touching was bad. And there was an expression on her face... concern? For him?

A strange, warm feeling rose in him. He felt the impulse to just drop the carcass and draw her into his arms and wanted to slap himself. Bad. Very, very bad. He'd have to put a stop to this kind of nonsense.

Impatiently, he wrenched himself free. "It's nothing", he snarled, turning away and making for the door. He felt her gaze at him in confusion, but ignored her and went outside.

Five bodies. And he really felt no inclination to dig a hole for them. He'd just leave them outside for the night, burn them tomorrow.

He took the bodies out, one after the other, still ignoring the girl. She had started a fire and was filling the pot at the well to heat some water, probably for cleaning the floor. And she kept throwing him bewildered glances.

After he had dumped the last carcass some yards away from the hut, he let himself drop on the lopsided, worm-eaten bench leaning against its wall, resting his face in his hands, tiredly massaging his forehead with his fingertips.

Just one more night. He could do it. Soon, it would be over.

He could hear the girl rummaging inside and briefly wondered what she was using to clean the floor. Probably one of his shirts, considering her habit to ruin them. Well, he had no desire to go in and check. One shirt was a small price to pay for some moments of peace.

His peace was interrupted when the door to the hut opened and the girl dragged the tub outside, emptying its now pink contents to the ground. She straightened and turned to him.

"I... I had to use the shrunken tunic to clean the floor", she said, hesitatingly. She was wearing her dress again, but it was hanging loose around her body, the laces open.

Bishop just shrugged, leaning his head against the wall, closing his eyes. He did not want to look at her. The dress looked as if it wanted to slide down her shoulders any moment...

"Could... could you fasten the laces again...?", she asked, haltingly. "I can't reach them, so..." Her voice trailed off.

He groaned and got to his feet. "Turn", he said harshly, his lips compressed to a tight line. He really did not want to do this.

She complied, and he threaded the laces through the hoops, taking care not to touch her, fighting the temptation to run his mouth down her neck to that piece of bare shoulder that showed through her open dress, wanting to sink his teeth into her soft skin...

Luckily he had gathered quite a bit of experience with lady's garments, otherwise the task might have taken him ages. He finished quickly, and stepped back, anxious to get some distance between them.

The girl turned to him and smiled at him, shyly, obviously still shaken from what had just happened in the hut.

„Thanks,", she said quietly, her voice still a bit shaky. She made a move to return to the hut, but then stopped and turned around to face him once more, her eyes shining bright. "I still wanted to thank you for taking me hunting, and for showing me how to shoot. It was… lovely."

Groaning inwardly, he retreated a bit more. "I'll work at the deer", he said gruffly, ignoring her words. "I want to eat sometime today."

She followed, her eyes falling to his shoulder, frowning. "You're still bleeding", she said.

"I told you it's nothing, so stop nagging about it, will you?" Why was she _following_ him?

Surprisingly enough, she smiled into his scowling face, a sudden twinkle in her eyes. "Don't be daft", she said. "I just wiped the floor, so I don't want you to go in and make it bloody all over again. And you don't have to worry, I _can_ dress the wound – that's something my mother _wanted_ me to learn, so I know how to do it."

He stared at her for a second, and could not stop the corners of his mouth from twitching. She was giving him cheek?

"Daft?", he asked, holding her gaze.

Her mouth twitched as well. "Yes, daft", she answered.

Admittedly, his shoulder hurt like a bitch. It would be awkward to impossible to bandage it himself, so it probably was a good idea to let her do it. Only he did not want to let her that close again.

"I'm not wiping that floor again", she said.

A short chuckle escaped him. "Watch it, mousie", he said.

She just cocked her head, that twinkle still in her eyes.

He rolled his eyes and groaned in defeat. "Fine", he said, turning back to the hut. "Do what you have to do. Just _try_ not to make it worse, will you?"

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle", she answered, teasingly.

He just had to laugh and quickly disguised it as a cough, glad she could not see his face. She had a sense of humour and a quick tongue when she was not paralysed with fear, and he had to admit he liked that side of her. It made him feel a trace of respect for her.

Which did not make things easier.

Back in the hut, Bishop started to rummage in his backpack until he found the stock of bandages he carried. He took one out and threw it to her.

"Do your worst, mousie", he said, still slightly amused by her sudden mutiny, pulled his shirt over his head and sat down on his bedroll.

She deftly caught the bandage, then took a step into his direction, lifting her eyes to him. Her step faltered, and he could see some colour rising in her cheeks.

_Now_ she turned prissy again?

He drew up his eyebrows and said, mockingly: "_You_ wanted to do this, princess. Are you going to get over your maiden virtue, or should I get dressed again?"

"No, I...", she started, but then closed her mouth with resolve and walked up to him. Her gaze fixed on the – admittedly still slightly bleeding – gash in his shoulder, she knelt down besides him, a small frown furrowing her brow, examining the wound.

Then she got up, marched determinedly to the small table, took the bottle still standing on it and poured a liberal amount of the contents over the gash. It stung like hell, and he winced a bit.

"Bloody hell, girl", he gritted out, "you could just have _said_ you wanted to torture me."

She grinned at him, mischief clear as the morning in her eyes. "Don't be a baby", she said. "I had to clean it. Now I can dress it, and it won't get infected."

He suppressed a grin, and she started to quickly and firmly dress his shoulder, her fingers brushing against his chest and back. He forced his mind away from the small, inevitable touches, staring straight ahead, his amusement melting like snow in the sun, making place for a very different kind of feeling.

"You are carrying a lot of bandages in your backpack", she said, her voice sounding a bit strained. "You seem to get hurt a lot."

He just grunted noncommittally. "As I said, I've had worse."

She fastened the bandage around his shoulder, and then he felt her fingertips running down his back, just left to his spine. He inhaled sharply and tried not to shiver under her touch.

"I can see that", she said softly, a strange, sad tone in her voice. "Where did you get that one?"

That must be the long one, the one he got in the fight with Tholapsyx. He'd nearly bought it that day when the huge dragon had managed to get past the warriors of their small band to squash the little insect stinging him with its arrows. His leathers had not provided much protection against an angry, huge red dragon... Well, no wonder it was angry, considering there was an arrow stuck in its eye. Had to hurt, that.

When Riana reached him, lying on the ground, bleeding massively, after the rest of them finally defeated the beast, the world had already started to get dim around him, and even her considerable healing powers had not been enough to close the wound completely...

Oh yes, that had left a nice scar, that one.

"Dragon's claw", he said curtly.

He heard her gasp. "You mean... you fought a dragon?", she asked, awed.

He shrugged. "More than one, but that one was a nasty critter. Now, are you done?"

Her fingers followed the scar again, upwards this time. Bishop closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, torn between turning round and shoving her away, and turning round and dragging her close...

"You could have died", she said, her voice shaking a bit.

"Nearly did", he gritted out. "Any more questions you want answered?"

"No", she said quietly and bent forward slightly, picking up his shirt. "I'll fix the slash in it tomorrow", she continued, still in that subdued tone. "And I will wash the blood out."

Tomorrow? Tomorrow, she would be dead.

She stared at the bloody, torn shirt for a moment and then looked up, into his eyes. "Thank you for your help", she said, softly. "Those men... I thought they were going to... and they were five. But you… I thought they were too many, but you were… I never saw anything like it. You saved me. So… thank you."

Gods help him. They were back to the hero fantasy. Had she _totally_ forgotten who he was, what he was about to do?

He kept her eyes, staring at her hard, so that she finally got the message. "They were small fish", he said, harshly. "Could not let them hurt you. Has to look like an accident, remember?"

He saw her eyes widen, and her face blanched. Hastily, she turned away and got up.

Well, good to have that straightened out.

Bishop got to his feet as well, practically fleeing the hut to finish working on the deer, leaving Karnwyr behind to guard the girl.

Just one more night.


	13. Chapter 13 Before the Storm, Part 1

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

* * *

Liliana hummed quietly as she made her way back to the hut, her steps surprisingly light. The day was still grey and colourless, the air cool and moist – but somehow, it felt as if she was carrying a light of her own in her chest, close to her heart, which illuminated the world around her in its own warm shine, driving away the cold.

She could not even remember when she had enjoyed herself so much in the last few months.

And he had let her follow the trail, and even shown her how to use his bow!

It had just been like the times she had followed Marisana through the woods, the woman taking her time to point out the different kind of tracks to the small girl who had followed her like a shadow, showing her how to follow them, while her husband, Gareth, had stood beside them, with a small smile on his bearded face and a cudgel over his shoulder, before he had fallen back in line with the other beaters who had worked for her grandfather.

The path wound around the slope of the small hill, and after a dozen steps, she could finally see the wooden walls of the cabin peer through the trees. Bishop had stayed behind at the foot of the hill, telling her in his own, gruff way that he would take care of the deer and that she was supposed to go ahead and get a fire going, so that they could start roasting the meat as soon as he returned to their hut.

She would have loved to stay behind as well, to watch him prepare the food, but had sensed that he had started to get restless in her company again, and so she had not wanted to stretch her luck any further and had obeyed without question, unwilling to let one of his little tantrums spoil her mood.

Still humming, a small smile on her face, Liliana stepped out from under the trees and onto the clearing and saw the wolf, Karnwyr, stand in front of the hut, watching her approach, his eyes shining bright even in the dim light of day. Strangely enough, without Bishop by his side, he looked a lot more like a wild animal of the woods, and so she gave him a wide berth on her way to the door, casting a nervous glance over her shoulder as she saw him actually following her quietly into the hut, but the wolf simply trotted to his former resting place beside her blankets and lay down on the floor, his head on his paws and the bright eyes now closed to slits.

Relieved about the wolf's friendly attitude, Liliana started to prepare the fireplace, unceremoniously shoving the cold ash aside with her hands to make place for the new logs. She did not know how much time it would take Bishop to finish his task, but she was convinced that it was much wiser to get a fire going and clean the chimney later as to have to explain to him why there was no merrily crackling fire awaiting him when he finally returned to the hut with their dinner.

The man sure was a grump, that much was certain.

So she picked log after log, piling them up while still humming a lively tune, and without thinking, she turned around to Bishop's backpack, reaching for its laces to fetch flint and steel.

The wolf growled deep in his throat, just once, and at the low and threatening sound, Liliana felt the beat of her heart speed up painfully while the blood seemed to run cold in her veins. Slowly, her heart still beating madly, she turned around, half expecting him to bare his impressively sharp teeth, but the wolf simply watched her intently, an almost questioning look on his furry face.

She gulped, feeling as if a tight lump had suddenly formed in her throat while her heart beat in her chest like a frightened bird. What was she about to do now?

_Talk to him!_

Even after all the things that had happened to her in the past few days, Liliana felt more than a little bewildered at the thought of trying to talk to a wild animal.

_Bishop is talking to him, too, so he's at least used to people speaking with him, _she tried to convince herself, swallowing nervously.

_And ranger companions are no ordinary animals. It can't hurt to give it a try, before he simply tears out my throat because I've been rummaging through his master's possessions._

"I don't want to take anything.", she began slowly, addressing the wolf with calm, deliberate words, carefully trying to gauge his mood. "I just need some tools to get the fire going, see? I won't take any of his things away."

For a long moment, the wolf simply looked at her, an unreadable expression in his wild eyes. Then a small grunt escaped his throat, and he lowered his head on his paws again, but without closing his eyes this time.

_Go on_, the look on his furry face seemed to say, _but I'll keep watching you_.

With a small, thankful smile, Liliana searched through Bishop's backpack until her fingers finally closed around the small leather pouch, and so she lifted her prey carefully to show it to the wolf.

"See? Only the pouch with flint and steel, just as I promised.", she added with a more winning smile, a part of her reprimanding her for the foolish attempt to try and charm an animal of the woods with nothing but a dazzling smile.

For the length of several heartbeats, the wolf simply stared at her, obviously unimpressed by her friendly attitude, that disturbingly intelligent look back in his yellow gaze. Then another small grunt escaped his throat, and he closed his eyes again, snorting quietly. Relieved that he seemed to have accepted her explanation, she quickly fastened the laces of the backpack again and hurried back to the chimney, intending to get the fire going.

But she had not so much as opened the laces of the pouch as the wolf growled again, even more threatening than before. Liliana jumped at the unexpected sound, and after wondering for a second how he could actually be as irritable and twitchy as his master, she slowly turned around, addressing him in the same calm, soothing voice she would have used to calm a frightened horse, or a small child.

"Look, I just have to open it, otherwise I cannot use…"

She stopped, puzzled to see the wolf standing on his paws again, his hackles raised, still growling threateningly, but his eyes were now fixed on the door of the hut, not her. Alarmed, Liliana turned around as well, listening intently while her pulse pounded loudly in her ears.

There were voices talking, just outside the hut.

_They have found me!_

For one short, wonderful moment, her heart seemed to freeze in her chest before it finally started to beat painfully fast once more, but now from the joy and relief that threatened to overwhelm her senses.

After days of horror and starvation, they had finally come for her!

The wolf made a sudden leap towards the door, his growl rising to a single howl that echoed loudly through the hut, and alarmed, Liliana made some quick steps towards him, her hands lifted in what she hoped would be interpreted as a soothing gesture.

"No, don't!", she exclaimed, desperately trying to calm him down, afraid that the noise would alert Bishop.

_Bishop._

What if he got caught?

She knew that he was nothing but a petty criminal, and that she should probably hate him for what he had done to her, but strangely enough, now that she was safe again, she did not want him to get any trouble on her account. He may have been harsh and rude during these past few days, but he had not actually hurt her.

At least, not really.

The memory of his voice, whispering soothingly into her ear, trying to take away her fear, came unbidden to her mind, and a sudden wave of uncertainty mingled strongly with her joy and anticipation. There had even been times where he had been almost kind. How could she repay him for that lovely afternoon in the woods with a straight ticket to the headsman?

Her eyes fell on his gear, lying close to her feet, and the squeezing feeling in her heart intensified.

If she reacted quickly, would she be able to talk her father and Cedric into leaving, without trying to catch the man who had held her captive? Maybe she could pretend she was sick, that she needed a cleric…

"Did ye hear that?"

A high, nasal voice came suddenly from right next to the entrance, and Liliana frowned, her stomach churning uncomfortably all of a sudden.

The voice belonged to a male, but had neither sounded familiar nor pleasant.

"I did.", a hoarse, growling voice answered the invisible speaker, as unfamiliar as the first one, and, surprisingly enough, even less pleasant. "Let's see who's paying us a visit, boys."

And with that, the door creaked open, and Liliana's eyes widened in fright as she stared at the bearded man who now stood in the doorframe, all her hopes about finally being rescued dying a fast and painful death.

The man looked well in his fifties, with his wrinkled face and the silver streaks in his unkempt, greasy beard. His clothes were dirty and ragged, roughly fixed by unskilled hands in numerous places, and there was a mean glint in his eyes as he let them roam freely through the hut, his piercing stare making her retreat further back into the cabin, her heart now thumping painfully in her throat.

There were other men lurking behind his back, all looking as shabby and neglected as he did, but in this instant, Karnwyr growled loud and menacingly in his throat, baring his very impressive teeth at the intruders, and the sound was actually enough to startle Liliana out of her fright. With a small cry, she hurried back to the chimney, her eyes desperately searching for the iron poker of the fireplace.

_A weapon. I need a weapon._

"Watch the doggie!", bellowed the bearded man, and there was the sound of men shouting and of feet on wood as his companions entered the hut, but Liliana tried to fight the sudden urge to turn around, as her eyes had finally found the poker lying half-hidden behind the pile of logs, and her right hand had already closed around its handle as she heard quick footsteps approaching, and her left arm was suddenly held in an iron grip and roughly wrenched behind her back.

It hurt like hell.

Liliana screamed, the searing pain in her arm spreading through her body like wildfire, but she still lifted the poker with her other hand, trying to strike at the man who held her in that painful grip.

"Let go of that hook, chickie!", growled her attacker, wrenching her arm even harder as he evaded her feeble attack easily, and her heart gave a terrified leap as she recognised the rough voice of the bearded man. The pain in her arm and shoulder finally became unbearable, and with a whimper, she let go of the poker, forcefully blinking away the tears.

As soon as it hit the ground with a loud thump, her captor loosened his grip around her arm a bit, the pain still intense, but not overwhelming anymore, and pressed her back close against his chest while turning her towards the door again, bringing her eye to eye with the rest of his companions.

There were five of them, two trying to hold Karnwyr in check with their cutlasses, eyeing the viciously growling wolf and his bared teeth warily. Two other men stood still close to the door, watching both her and the wolf with a look of utmost confusion and surprise on their simple faces, obviously unsure how to react to this unexpected situation.

"Lookie here,", the bearded man grunted gleefully into her ear. His scent rose into her nose, the stink of stale beer and old sweat making her turn her head as far away from him as possible in disgust, trying to keep her breathing as quick and shallow as she could make it without going to faint.

"A chickie! How nice of her to drop by. Now, chickie, ye tell the lil' doggie to keep it down, unless he wants me to cut yer throat.", the bearded man continued nastily, patting the hilt of his own cutlass lazily to emphasize his threat.

"He… He's not mine.", Liliana replied, desperately trying to keep her voice from shaking. "I can't tell him what to do."

She could feel the man's piercing black eyes upon her and therefore did her best to turn away from him, to keep him from seeing the fear and revulsion that had to be edged clearly across her face.

"Kill the wolf.", the bearded man finally commanded with a sneer, casting the animal a contemptuous look.

_What? _

"No!", she cried vehemently, struggling against the man's hold despite the sharp pain the movement induced in her arm. "Leave him alone! You'll be sorry if you hurt him!"

A cacophony of raucous laughter followed her words as the men threw their heads back in amusement, but Liliana noticed the relief flickering across the men's faces who tried to keep the wolf in check, obviously glad about the little distraction from their leader's command.

"Oh chickie,", the bearded man snickered into her ear, his amusement sending a surprisingly strong ripple of hot anger down her spine, "Yer a blast, I can tell already. Who will make us sorry? Ye?"

"No.", Liliana replied icily, the sudden wave of hot anger actually thawing her fear. "Not me. But his master will."

She thought of Bishop, still out there in the woods, preparing their dinner, and for one sweet, blissful moment, she imagined him to return to the hut, his weapons drawn, and wiping the smug smile from that brute's face with his scimitars.

"Believe me, you don't want to make him angry."

The men laughed again.

"Oh chickie", the bearded man replied after he had caught his breath, "Think we're afraid of one man? There are five of us, and we have ye."

Liliana swallowed hard as the tight knot of fear almost instantaneously reformed in her belly.

They were right, of course. Even if Bishop should return to the hut, he was still outnumbered five to one. And why should he return at all, risking his own life when the odds were so clearly against him?

_We have ye._

"That probably won't make much of a difference…", she whispered quietly, her heart feeling heavy all of a sudden. The bearded man leaned even closer, and the lecherous sound of his voice sent more shivers of dread down her spine.

"See, chickie", the man replied almost nonchalantly, his coarse beard chafing her cheek, "ye've been sleeping in our house, eating our food. Me thinks ye got to pay for that."

At these words, his companions changed knowing, excited looks, and Liliana feared to be sick as she saw the hungry anticipation in their eyes.

"So me and the boys will have us some fun tonight, after we killed yer lover. What do you say, boys?"

The men cheered, their eyes now roaming hungrily over her body, but she only half-noticed it as the man's words stirred a strange, unexpected feeling inside her, as if her heart was gently squeezed in her chest, and it startled her.

_Yer lover._

"Sorry boys,", a cold voice could suddenly be heard over all the cheering and clapping, and Liliana's heart gave a painful thump as she recognised it in an instant, "The plan just changed."

She looked up, her eyes wide, and her heart gave another squeeze as she saw Bishop standing in the door of the hut, one of his scimitars pressed firmly against the throat of one of the men close to the entrance, his face an impassive mask, but his eyes ablaze with cold fury.

When he spoke again, his voice was low and threatening. "Release the girl, or this one bites it."

The cheering stopped abruptly, and the men whirled around, all eyes now turned on the new arrival. The bearded man made an angry hissing noise and increased his pull on her arm, increasing the pain as well. Liliana winced, but fought down a moan that threatened to escape her lips, determined not to make another sound.

"Yer bluffin'!", the bearded man growled, his piercing eyes now solely fixed on the intruder while his companions exchanged nervous, uncertain glances.

With one fluid motion of his arm, Bishop slit the throat of his hostage. Blood poured from the wound, and the man made a surprised, gurgling sound as he was hurled against his other companion close to the door, who caught his dying comrade in his arms and staggered backwards, too shocked to react in any other way.

"No, I'm really not.", Bishop replied smoothly as he made another step into the hut. He had taken off his leathers while working on the deer, and now sprinkles of blood stained the light fabric of his tunic and dropped from his weapon onto the wooden planks, and there was a smile on his face that sent another wave of cold shivers down Liliana's spine as she watched his slow approach in fearful anticipation.

The bearded man roared as he saw his comrade's fate and reached for his cutlass, wrenching her arm even harder in the process. A bolt of hot, searing pain shot through her left shoulder, and Liliana couldn't repress a whimper as the pain spread down her neck and arm, making her feel like her shoulder was slowly but irresistibly wrenched out of its joint…

Bishop growled, a low, almost feral sound, deep in his throat, and his eyes narrowed to slits as he lifted his right hand and threw one of his scimitars at the bearded man with a quick flick of his wrist. The weapon flew so fast that it was barely more than a silver blur passing before her eyes, and she could feel the draught as it passed close her face to embed itself deeply into the bearded man's forehead, its hilt now dangling in front of her eyes.

She felt the tight grip around her arm suddenly go limp, and then her captor fell onto the floor without so much as a sound, his dead eyes staring up at her, unfocused, while blood poured from the wound in his head into his beard. Liliana yelped, staring at the corpse at her feet in fright, and then slowly retreated against the wall of the hut, as the battle was now in full swing.

She stood there, her back pressed firmly against the wood, her throat tight with fear, and watched how Bishop brought down one man after the other. She felt one moment of utmost, panicked fear as one of the thugs attacked him from behind and hit him in the shoulder with his cutlass, and she cried out, even took a few steps forward, but Bishop simply crouched and rolled gracefully to the side, instantly resuming the fighting as if he had not been hurt at all.

She stood, her eyes wide, her heart beating painfully fast in her chest, and watched the fight with some sort of sick fascination, watched how he crouched, parried, attacked and dodged his attackers, always two steps ahead of them. Seeing him fight was almost like watching a dance – a lethal dance, yes, but almost beautiful in its own, savage way, and so she stared, her eyes fixed on his face, watching how his eyes never left his opponent, alert, calculating, that terrifying smile still on his face.

He truly _was_ a predator, merciless, determined, and deadly.

Finally, there was only one man standing, one shaking hand gripping the hilt of his cutlass, the other clutching his wounded throat after Karnwyr had bitten him in return for attacking his master. The man tensed as Bishop turned to face him, his face now white as a sheet.

"I… I give.", he coughed in a high, pleading voice as he dropped his weapon, his eyes wide with fear. "Don't kill me, please!"

Slowly, Bishop stepped up to the man, his eyes cold, that cruel smile still on his face. There was another quick slice with the scimitar, and the man crumbled onto the floor, his guts spilling onto the wooden planks.

"Sorry,", Bishop replied coldly as he watched the dying man at his feet. "No witnesses."

Liliana swallowed hard, her throat still feeling unnaturally tight, as she watched him standing there, towering above the man he had just killed, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. She could still remember his amused laugh as she had threatened him with Damian's challenge, and now, for the first time, she truly understood why he had laughed at her that day.

All these years she had watched her brother and his friends sparring, the boys thinking of themselves as expert fighters, and she never doubting their abilities… but now that she had seen a _real_ fight, she knew that none of them would actually stand a chance against a _true_ opponent, far from the protective rules of tournament and fair play.

She stared wide-eyed at the corpses, now strewn about the floor, and the overwhelming stink of blood and sweat that filled the hut made her feel ill. There was the sound of swift footsteps approaching, and then a calloused hand closed firmly around her chin, lifting her head, and she looked up into Bishop's face, his brows furrowed in concentration as he stood just inches before her, examining her.

She stared up at him, relief and fear still battling strongly in her chest, and felt her heart constricting painfully as she saw him shut his eyes for a moment, something close to relief flickering across his face… and felt a sudden, irresistible desire to throw herself into his arms, so that he could hold her just one more time like he had held her this afternoon, taking away her fear, making everything all right again…

She even made a small, trembling step forward, but in that instant, Bishop turned away from her, kneeling beside the corpse at her feet, reaching for his weapon, and Liliana couldn't stop herself from wincing as the scimitar came out of the bearded man's forehead with a wet, grating sound.

She watched him kneeling there, cleaning the blade on the man's clothes, as her eyes suddenly fell on the wound in his shoulder, the cut still bleeding slightly and staining his tunic in a deep red.

"You're hurt.", she murmured softly as she reached down to carefully touch his shoulder, her fingers trembling.

With an angry twitch of his shoulder, Bishop shrugged her hand off.

"Never mind.", he growled as he stood, lifting the man's dead body onto his shoulder. "Just a scrape."

He turned to walk towards the door, but she quickly reached out and grabbed his right arm. "You're bleeding.", she insisted, her voice now sharp with worry and a faint hint of annoyance. Why did he always have to be so stubborn?

_Males. They all think they must act the hero. _

"Let me have a look."

Impatiently, he wrenched his arm free. "It's nothing.", he snarled as he glared at her for a split second, his eyes narrowed dangerously, before he finally turned away and left the hut, leaving her behind with the dead.

There was a low grunt, and Karnwyr trotted towards her, watching her intently with his bright eyes. Liliana kneeled, glad for any excuse to sit down for a moment, and petted the wolf's forehead with trembling hands, trying to ignore the fact that his flews were still stained with blood.

"Thanks for your help.", she murmured quietly into his ear, a part of her feeling truly glad that he was with her, that there was at least _someone_ who was offering her some kind of comfort. The wolf grunted again, nudging her palm with his nose, and then turned around and followed his master swiftly into the woods.

The silence of the hut suddenly seemed to surround her like a shroud, the dead watching her with their glassy eyes, an almost accusing expression on their pallid faces. Another cold shiver of fear ran down her spine, but Liliana fought against the new wave of terror that made her throat feel tight and closed around her heart in an icy grip.

They had been bad people. They had wanted to hurt her. Now their souls were with the gods, and would feel the consequences for their actions. Nothing to fear. Nothing to be afraid of.

She would not succumb to her fear again. She could be strong. She could handle this.

The wooden planks of the threshold creaked ominously, and Liliana jumped, her heart catching in her throat, and felt a huge wave of shame and relief flood her being as she saw that it was only Bishop, returning from his walk into the woods. He stepped into the hut without casting her as much as a glance, and simply lifted the next corpse onto his shoulders before he finally made his way back into the wilds with his load, obviously determined to clean the hut.

Well, she could help with that.

Carefully avoiding to take another look at the remaining corpses, she made her way back to the chimney and resumed her work at the fireplace. It took her a while to strike a spark, because her fingers were still shaking so badly, but finally, a merry fire crackled in the chimney, and the warm, lively dancing flames were a balm to her weary soul.

All the time she was working clumsily with flint and steel, Bishop went in and out of the hut, removing the dead. She felt relieved when the last one had been carried out of the cabin, but frowned as she looked onto the floor, now covered with blood and other, more unsavoury bits and pieces her mind really did not want to dwell on.

Well, everything was better than just sitting here alone, shaking like a leaf.

So she got up, took the iron pot from its place beside the chimney, and went outside to fetch some fresh water from the well. She watched Bishop disappear into the woods with his load, and felt that strange ache in her heart again, now accompanied by confusion.

What was it with him that he was always getting snarly and irritated with her, when all she wanted was to take a look at his shoulder, to see whether he would be alright?

He had risked his life for her, after all.

So why wouldn't he just let her express her gratitude in the only way she could, by taking a look at his injuries, dressing the wound?

_Maybe you should have told him that you know something about the healer's craft_, she mused while pulling up the bucket, _maybe he thinks that you would only make things worse, that you don't know what you're doing._

_Well_, she thought as she carried the filled pot over the small clearing and back towards the hut, casting another glance in the direction where he had vanished from her sight, _I will fix that, as soon as he returns._


	14. Chapter 14 Before the Storm, Part 2

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

* * *

Cleaning the floor was one of the most disgusting and unpleasant experiences of her life.

Liliana knelt on the ground, now loosely dressed in her own gown again because she had nothing but the shrunken tunic to use as a floor-cloth, and scrubbed the wooden planks forcefully, the offending smell still making her feel sick.

_It's just paint_, she tried to convince herself as she wrung the cloth in the warm water for the umpteenth time, her hands now showing a deep scarlet, _nothing but paint_.

But the stains of blood were still visible where the liquid had soaked into the fissured wood, and everytime she closed her eyes, she could see the dead staring at her, accusation and hatred in their glassy eyes.

Finally, she had to admit that there was nothing she could do anymore, and so she stood with a sigh, rearranging her loose gown in the process. After she had redone her dress, she had gone outside, looking for Bishop, so he could fasten the laces of her bodice again, but he had been nowhere to be seen, and so she had been forced to do her work without a properly closed corsage, cursing under her breath every time the stupid piece of cloth slid down her shoulder.

She dragged the tub over the floor and onto the clearing to empty its contents to the ground, and was relieved to see that he had returned in the meantime, now sitting on the small bench close to the entrance and slowly massaging his temples, the dark shadows back under his eyes.

He looked tired, and unhappy.

For a moment, she fought with herself, uncertain whether she shouldn't leave him in peace, but then she approached him nonetheless.

"I... I had to use the shrunken tunic to clean the floor.", she began hesitatingly, anxiously watching his face to gauge his mood. He closed his eyes as she approached, and Liliana swallowed nervously, unsure how to go on.

"Could... could you fasten the laces again?", she asked, haltingly. "I cannot reach them, so..." Her voice trailed off.

First, it looked as if he had simply decided to ignore her, for he kept sitting on the bench, his eyes closed, showing no reaction to her request at all. But then he groaned and finally got to his feet, looking stricken.

"Turn.", he commanded harshly, his lips compressed to a tight line, and she hastened to comply, confused by his strange reaction. She could feel him pull on the various laces as he threaded them through the hoops, and shivered as his fingers occasionally brushed over her skin.

„Thank you.", she replied quietly after he had finished the task. He just watched her with that ominous look in his eyes, the words she had wanted to say to him all afternoon catching in her throat under his dark stare, and so she was already half-way back into the hut as her conscience suddenly spoke up, urging her to go back to him once more.

_You cannot just leave things like this. He took you hunting, and he saved you from those thugs. Show some gratitude!_

So she stopped right in her tracks and turned around, searching for his eyes, and her voice trembled ever so slightly as she spoke.

"I still wanted to thank you for taking me hunting, and for showing me how to shoot.", she said, in a very quiet voice. "It was… lovely."

He turned abruptly and headed back towards the first line of trees, towards the narrow path that wound down the hill.

"I'll work on the deer,", he replied gruffly, not quite meeting her eyes. "I want to eat sometime today."

She fell in beside him, strangely touched by his modest reaction. It was hard to believe, but could there actually be a shy man underneath the icy exterior, behind all that spite and saturnine looks? Her eyes fell onto his shoulder, and she frowned as she saw the trickles of blood glitter in the dim light of day.

"You're still bleeding.", she said.

Bishop made a strange huffing sound, and his voice sounded highly irritated as he half-turned to glare at her. "I _told_ you it's nothing, so stop nagging about it, will you?"

Maybe it was just the strain and distress, but Liliana couldn't keep herself from smiling as she looked up into his scowling face, her smile even widening as she saw his eyes narrowing dangerously at her good mood. He really was a grump, no doubt about that.

"Don't be daft.", she laughed, the fluttery feeling back in her chest. "I just wiped the floor, so I don't want you to go in and make it bloody all over again."

She frowned as a certain thought reoccurred to her.

"And you don't have to worry, I _can_ dress the wound – that's something my mother _wanted_ me to learn, so I know how to do it."

For the length of a heartbeat, he just stared at her, obviously torn between being amused and being annoyed, and her heart gave another squeeze as she stared up into his unusual eyes, watching the expression on his face. Was his mouth actually twitching?

"Daft?", he asked somewhat disbelieving, his eyes boring into hers.

"Yes, daft.", Liliana stated matter-of-factly, feeling a grin tug at the corners of her mouth as well. He did not reply to that, and she thought that it was just about time to try and stretch her luck a little further, feeling surprisingly mischievous all of a sudden.

"I am not wiping that floor again.", she answered flippantly.

A short chuckle escaped him, and her heart gave another squeeze at the rare sound.

"Watch it, mousie.", he replied warningly, but his eyes were twinkling.

She simply cocked her head, her arms crossed before her chest, waiting, until he finally rolled his eyes and groaned in defeat.

"Fine.", Bishop grumbled as he turned back to the hut. "Do what you have to do. Just _try_ not to make it worse, will you?"

She grinned. Could it actually be so easy to get him into a comparatively good mood? By giving him cheek?

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle.", she answered teasingly as she fell in behind him, the fluttery feeling actually intensifying as he made a strange, coughing sound, the strong muscles in his neck flexing noticeably under the sudden strain.

Back into the hut, Bishop went over to his bedroll and kneeled beside his backpack where he started rummaging in its depths, most likely searching for some kind of bandage. He lifted his hand again, and Liliana caught only a glimpse of what seemed to be a small linen bundle as he already threw it in her direction with another quick flick of his wrist before he finally settled down on his bedroll.

"Do your worst, mousie.", she heard him say as she lunged for the bandage, his voice still slightly amused. With the linen now firmly in hand, she walked up to him, lifting her eyes to examine the wound… and her breath caught in her throat as she saw him sitting there, his chest bare, the tunic now lying in a disordered heap by his side.

Her steps faltered, and she could feel her cheeks grow hot within seconds as she stared at him, at the well-trained muscles of his stomach, the curls of reddish-brown hair that darkened his chest, and swallowed hard, the squeezing feeling in her chest now mingling strongly with embarrassment.

How did he manage to get out if his tunic so quickly? And _why_ did he take off his tunic at all? It just wasn't appropriate…

He raised his eyebrows questioningly at her reaction, and his voice had a clear mocking note as he spoke.

"_You_ wanted to do this, princess. Are you going to get over your maiden virtue, or should I get dressed again?"

"No, I...", she began, but then stopped herself, knowing that she would only start babbling if she continued in any way. Steeling herself, she forced herself to keep her mouth shut and walked up to him to kneel by his side, trying to focus on the wound in his shoulder.

He was right to mock her. Of course he had to get out of his tunic, otherwise she wouldn't be able to dress the wound.

He had just surprised her, that was all.

Luckily, the wound was a clear cut and relatively shallow, so it should heal quickly after it was dressed, but Liliana frowned as she leaned closer to examine the cut. She doubted that those thugs had kept their weapons in any better condition than they had kept their clothes, and so she would have to clean the wound thoroughly to prevent an infection.

Searchingly, her eyes wandered through the hut and finally rested on the bottle of spirits, still standing on the small desk close to the fireplace. Quickly, she hopped to her feet and fetched the bottle, unceremoniously pulling the cork with her teeth and pouring its content over Bishop's shoulder.

He inhaled sharply as the liquid reached the wound in his flesh, and his voice sounded strained as he growled.

"Bloody hell, girl, you could just have _said_ you wanted to torture me."

She grinned as she saw the expression on his face and reached for his ruined tunic to carefully clean his shoulder and bare back from the dried blood, fighting down a laugh that threatened to escape her lips, her heart giving another gentle squeeze as she looked into his eyes.

"Don't be a baby!", she replied, still trying not to laugh. "I had to clean it. Now I can dress it, and it won't get infected."

He grunted noncommittally, and with a small smile, she reached for the bandage and began dressing his wound.

His back and chest were full of thin, white scars, some of them so old that they were only barely visible in the dim light of day, and Liliana felt something close to sorrow stir in her chest, a strange, bittersweet feeling that made her heart ache as her fingers wandered swiftly over his skin to dress the cut, wondering whether it would leave a scar as well.

So many wounds. So much hurt.

How did one deal with this sort of pain? Was it actually such a wonder that he appeared cold and cruel at times, that he tried to keep people at bay? Her eyes fell on the amulet that was hanging on the silver chain around his neck, and was startled as a sharp pang pierced her heart as she looked at his lover's gift.

"You are carrying a lot of bandages in your backpack.", she said, trying to distract herself from that disturbing notion. "You seem to get hurt a lot."

Bishop grunted again. "As I said, I've had worse."

"I can see that.", Liliana replied quietly as she fastened the bandage around his shoulder. There was a large scar just left to his spine, its shape strangely distorted and flaming red, and she couldn't resist to let her fingers wander over his skin, following its extend down his back. She could hear him inhale sharply at her feathery touch, his shoulders actually tensing, and she caught a whiff of his scent as she leaned a little closer to examine the scar more closely.

"Where did you get that one?", she asked in a subdued voice, curious what kind of weapon would leave such a wound, the beat of her heart accelerating ever so slightly as his scent rose more prominently into her nose.

"Dragon's claw.", he replied curtly.

She gasped, and her eyes widened in astonishment as she tried to digest his words.

"You mean... you fought a dragon?", Liliana asked in a hushed voice, torn between staring at him admiringly and not believing him a single word.

Bishop just shrugged at her reply, a gesture as graceful as that of a cat. "More than one, but that one was a nasty critter. Now, are you done?"

She stared at him, her eyes wide, not trusting her ears that she had heard him correctly. How could he just sit there like this, telling her in that casual voice that he had fought dragons, as if they were creatures one actually encountered every day?

Only heroes fought dragons, and came out of these encounters alive!

Her fingers continued to follow the scar, now up towards his neck, and she felt a shiver run down her own spine as she realised for the first time how close it was to _his_ spine, and his heart.

"You could have died.", she murmured, surprised to hear her voice even shaking a little as she spoke, the squeezing feeling in her chest intensifying almost painfully for a moment.

"Nearly did.", he replied curtly. "Any more questions you want answered?"

"No.", she said quietly and bent forward to pick up his tunic again, the fabric rough under her fingers. "I will fix the slash in it tomorrow.", she continued, still in that subdued, shaking voice, and wondered why she suddenly could not meet his eyes. "And I will wash the blood out."

She stared at the bloody, torn tunic for another moment and, after gathering her courage, looked up at him again, into his eyes, her heart still aching with sweet pain. He had fought those thugs who had threatened her life, and now there was a new wound on his body, another one that might leave a scar, and it moved her that he had risked his life on her behalf.

"Thank you for your help.", she said, softly, feeling the sudden urge to let him know how grateful she was. "Those men... I thought they were going to... and they were five. But you… I thought they were too many, but you were… I never saw anything like it. You saved me. So… thank you."

A part of her had actually expected him to turn away from her again, grumbling something under his breath, only to keep her from seeing his joy over her grateful words. But instead, his eyes seemed to glaze over in an instant, and that icy stare was enough to make her stomach churn more than uncomfortably again.

"They were small fish.", Bishop replied, his voice harsh. "Could not let them hurt you. Has to look like an accident, remember"

It felt as if an icy fist had hit her forcefully into her belly. She stared up into his cold eyes, her own widening noticeably at his cruel remark, and felt all blood drain from her face as the gentle squeezing in her heart turned into a painful pang in an instant.

_Oh, I will be paid, little mouse, don't worry. I am paid a royal sum to dispose of you._

Hastily, she scrambled to her feet and scurried away from him, her hands and knees now trembling so badly that she rather fell than sat down onto her own blankets, a suffocating wave of despair threatening to drown her senses as she heard him get to his feet and leave the hut, the room getting even darker as he closed the door behind him.

_Has to look like an accident, remember?_

At the memory of his harsh, sneering voice, she felt tears rise in her eyes, and sniffing, she curled into a tight ball, her arms hugging her legs so tightly that her nails dug into her flesh, the sudden wave of shame and despair that welled through her body eating her alive.

How could she have forgotten?

He was no friend. He was a mercenary, a criminal that had been hired to get her killed, even if she still couldn't believe that someone would pay a single coin to see her dead. Maybe he had lied about that, but that still did not change the fact that he had kept her chained to the wall of this very hut for days now.

He was no better than those thugs who now lay in a trench, somewhere out in the woods, killed by his own hands.

And there she was, kneeling by his side and dressing his wound, talking to him and laughing at his replies as if he actually _meant_ something to her, as if there was a kind of bond between them. At that particular thought, the throbbing pain in her heart seemed only to intensify, and she closed her eyes, her limbs still shaking, and for a moment, she thought that she would simply die of shame, never feeling more embarrassed with herself in her whole life.

Gods, what would her Cedric think of her, sitting here, taking care of _his_ wound?

Anger rose in her chest, black and suffocating. Anger at herself mostly for being such a sheep again, but a good part also directed at _him_.

How could he take her out hunting and show her how to use his bow if he only wanted to see her dead in the end? Why did he have to grin and stop snarling at her when she gave him cheek, his eyes almost twinkling with suppressed laughter? And _why, why _had he come back to hold her so tightly and whisper soothingly into her ear if he actually did not give a damn whether she lived or died?

No wonder that she started to confuse things if he couldn't act like the common thug he was supposed to be!

Still sniffing, the anger and despair now battling strongly in her chest, she reached for the blankets at her feet and wrapped them tightly around her as she lay down on the floor, her mind racing, and her guts churned painfully as she buried her face in the rough fabric.

They even smelled like him, considering that most of the blankets were his own.

She remembered how she had lain here, his arms closing around her while her back was pressed tightly against his chest, his delicious warmth slowly spreading through her body, and felt even more ashamed of herself as her tears finally started to flow.

When he eventually returned to the hut, the room was almost dark, only the embers of the fire illuminating the scenery with their red light. It had started to rain again, the drumming of the waterdrops on the roof the only diversion in a once more dull and colourless world, and Liliana felt the corners of her mouth lift in a joyless smile when she heard a peal of thunder in the distance as the door of the hut opened with one of its ominous creaks.

How fitting.

She could feel the wind tousling her hair and heard him curse under his breath as his footsteps echoed loudly through the small cabin, the sound of the falling rain now much more prominent than before. For one moment, the smell of wet leaves and moist earth drifted through the hut, but then he closed the door with a slam, and only the scent of wood and smoke remained.

"Bloody rain!", he grumbled under his breath as he walked over to the chimney, the wet, thudding sound telling her that he had dropped their food by the fire, but she did not turn around, keeping her back to him while she stared at the ankle ring that lay only a short distance away on the ground, reminding her silently of her current fate.

"Get over here, princess.", he said in his usual snarl, "I need a hand."

His voice sounded a bit muffled, as if he was talking against his chest, and she could tell from the soft, rattling sound of metal against leather that he was trying to take off his armour. She could hear him hiss softly as he pulled his leathers off, his shoulder no doubt hurting under the sudden strain, and she could feel a few droplets of water touch her cheek as the armour finally fell onto the ground.

But still, she did not move.

"Are you _deaf_?", she heard his sneering voice as he bent down to pick up his leathers and lean them once again against the wall, close to the door. There was a bright flash of light, quickly followed by another peal of thunder, and the drumming of the rain rose to a rushing crescendo as the storm drew closer, making its way towards the woods.

She heard him walk over to the chimney and add more logs to the fire, rekindling the flames with some focussed blows into the glowing embers, and her heart gave a painful leap as she heard his footsteps over the merry crackling of the flames, finally making their way towards her.

"Get up, princess.", he snarled as soon as he had reached her side, and she could feel his foot nudging against her back as he spoke, "You wanna eat something today, you gotta roast it first."

His voice held now a very prominent note of annoyance and impatience, and Liliana shivered even under her blankets, staring onto the floor, her eyes wide while waiting in fearful anticipation, but even as her heart began hammering heavily in her chest, she simply kept lying on the ground, unmoving.

He was not the only one here who could not care about the other, after all.

For long moments, Bishop simply stood there, staring down at her. Then a low growl escaped his lips, and his voice sounded highly irritated as he went on.

"_Fine_." he hissed angrily, and she could feel his glare on her back like a brand. "See what happens."

She heard him stomping back through the room to sit down in front of the fire, and closed her eyes as her heart gave another painful squeeze.

_I'm just your prisoner_, she thought, her lips pressed to a thin line as she lay there on the ground, misery draped around her like a cloak._ What do you care if I eat or not? I will die as easily with a grumbling stomach as without it._

So she kept lying on the ground, listening to the drumming of the rain, the monotony now and then disturbed by thunder and lightning, and the wind howled like a dying animal in the trees and crawled through the fissures in the wood, making her shiver even despite her blankets.

She heard him work over at the chimney, occasionally muttering angrily under his breath, but his voice was too quiet for her to understand his words over the coming storm. After a while, the smell of roasted meat drifted through the hut, and she could feel her stomach grumble longingly at the inviting smell.

Gods, she was hungry.

Slowly, she turned her head, carefully peering over her shoulder, and saw him sitting on the chair in front of the fire, using the iron poker as a makeshift-spit to roast the meat while staring into the fire. She watched the light playing on his sharp features, and felt that bittersweet ache in her heart again as she took in the dark shadows under his eyes and the hard lines around his mouth, his lips pressed to a thin line.

He looked so angry, so bitter.

She watched him take the poker out of the flames and test the meat with his knife, and felt a strange emotion stir in her chest, a nebulous kind of yearning that she had never experienced in her life, and before she even realised it she was already getting to her feet, the blankets still around her shoulders, and slowly made her way towards the fire, her heart feeling strangely heavy, even despite its quick pace.

He looked up as she approached, his eyes narrowing hostilely, and she was strangely reminded of a hedgehog she had once seen in the garden, half-hidden in the grass and curled up into a tight ball and prickly at all sides to keep her and her brother's stick at bay.

"_What_?", he snarled, his eyes still ablaze with cold fury. "No work, no food. So get lost."

He tilted his head sharply in the direction of her wall and then turned his back to her to start eating, his gaze once more fixed on the fire, that ill-boding expression back on his face.

Slowly, Liliana sat down by his side, pulling the blankets tightly around her shoulders, and watched the lively dance of the flames, relishing the warmth that spread through her body.

_What am I doing here_, she thought, confused. She had _told_ herself that he was nothing but a mindless thug, that she did not care about his well-being, as much as he did not care about hers. So _why_ was she sitting by his side again, hugging her legs closely against the wind, and trying to offer… _something_, when it was clear as the morning that he did not even _want_ her company.

_At least it is warm_, she thought miserably, trying to ignore the sudden ache in her heart. _That is something_.

For a long while, they simply sat in brooding silence, he finishing his meal and she staring into the flames, lost in her thoughts, trying to ignore the emotional uproar inside her as well as the painful grumbling of her stomach while the rain and the wind kept howling around the hut.

Then Bishop suddenly got to his feet, and something landed beside her with a soft, thudding sound. She looked up, and saw that he had thrown the poker with the rest of the roasted meat in her direction. She turned around, puzzled, but he was now rummaging through his backpack and did not look at her.

For a moment, she hesitated. Then her hunger got the better part of her, and not caring for the consequences, she quickly reached for the poker with slightly trembling hands, lifted it to her mouth and sank her teeth into the flesh. It was only barely spiced, but due to the strong taste of venison, it was still palatable, and she couldn't suppress an enraptured moan escape her lips as the ache in her stomach slowly ebbed away, and a satiated warmth spread through her body, making her limbs prickle comfortably in the process.

Suddenly, there was a swift movement by her side, and Bishop sat down on the chair again, which made her jump in surprise, for she had not heard him move. For the length of a heartbeat, she froze, peering at him haltingly, suddenly afraid that he would get angry with her for taking the food despite his prohibition, but he simply ignored her, taking a deep swig from his waterskin, his eyes once more fixed on the fire.

For the length of a heartbeat, she hesitated, her grip around the poker tensing unconsciously, but as the moments ticked by, and he still ignored her, she hastily resumed eating.

Who would have thought that she would ever enjoy the feeling of holding a piece of roasted meat in her hand, tearing the flesh from the bones with her teeth? But fortunately, her stomach did not care too much about etiquette, and so she simply closed her eyes and relished the warmth that now spread through her body, chewing animatedly, her misery miraculously damped by a filling stomach.

Finally, she had picked all meat from the bones, and with a contented sigh, she put the poker down by her side, licking the dripping from her fingers. Bishop still sat beside her, not sparing her as much as a glance while he kept staring into the fire, the waterskin in his hands.

Liliana watched him nervously from the corner of her eye. Although he still looked a lot like that little hedgehog, prickly and thoroughly unwelcoming, she thought that the dark look on his face had softened somewhat, as if his anger had mostly evaporated, and after a quick prayer to the gods, she gathered her courage to address him in a quiet and, what she hoped, soothing voice.

"Could you hand me the waterskin, please?", she asked calmly, and her heart almost caught in her throat as she saw the muscles in his face actually tense at her softly spoken words.

For one long, frightening moment, she feared that she had misjudged him again, for his eyes narrowed dangerously once more, that ill-boding expression returning almost instantly, but after another long moment of uncomfortable silence, he growled and shoved the skin in her direction, casting her a short, angry glance before he finally returned his attention to the fire.

With trembling hands, her heart still beating madly, Liliana reached for the skin and drank thirstily, casting him nervous glances out of the corner of her eye to gauge his mood. Another peal of thunder echoed through the hut, but more distant now, and the howling of the wind slowly ebbed away, along with the rushing of the rain. Obviously, the storm had finally moved on, and the elements could calm once more.

After sating her thirst, she carefully sealed the skin again and put it down by her side, still casting him nervous glances, but he had already returned his attention to the burning fire, and so she simply kept sitting by his side, watching the flames to the soft, drumming sound of the rain. That delicious warmth still spread through her body, making her limbs grow heavy, but in a good way, and she could feel her eyelids flutter lazily while she stared into the fire, the monotonous sound of the rain and the mesmerizing dance of the flames luring her towards sleep.

She did not know how long they had sat there in front of the fire in almost agreeable silence, but she seemed to have dozed off at a point, because a sharp nudge against her shoulder made her sit bold upright with a small yelp, and she blinked, confused to see Bishop standing above her, an unreadable expression on his face.

"That's it, princess.", he snarled in a coarse voice, but the cold fury had finally vanished from his eyes. "Time to settle in for the night."

Suppressing a yawn, she nodded and got clumsily to her feet, the blankets still draped around her shoulders, her cheek unnaturally warm, but she was finally too tired to feel anything but an intense longing to return to that restful sleep as he once more closed the iron ring around her ankle. No more thinking today.

She lay down on the ground, tightly wrapped up in her blankets against the cold and listening to the quiet sound of his footsteps as he made his way back to the fire, and it was then as she suddenly realised that she was lying under _his_ blanket as well, for he had brought it over to her place last night to keep her warm.

Did that mean that he would sleep here this night as well?

Her heart gave a painful leap at that thought, and her conscience churned uncomfortably as she realised that that leap had not only been induced by fear.

So she lay there on her spot on the ground, suddenly not sleepy anymore, and waited in fearful anticipation for him to go to bed as well. She heard him adding more logs to the chimney, so that the fire could keep them warm for the longest part of the night, and her heart almost caught in her throat as she finally heard him walk over the floor, because for the fracture of a second, it seemed as if he was truly coming towards her… but then he simply lay down on his own bedroll, blanket or not, and the calm, heavy sound of his breathing told her that he was quickly falling asleep.

Liliana lay there in the dark for a long time, watching the light of the fire slowly die away, her mind racing, and sleep did not come easily.


	15. Chapter 15 Prey

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

* * *

Bishop lay on his bedroll, curled up against the damp cold that seeped through the badly fitted planks that made up the walls of the cabin. His eyes were wide open, staring sightlessly into the darkness. The cold would not let him sleep, but he'd be damned if he got up and fetched his blanket from the girl. He really did not want to get near her another time today. And his cloak was still much too wet to use as a cover.

Besides, his racing mind was keeping him awake anyway. He tried not to think about the _hurt_ look in her eyes when he reminded her that the only reason he was here was to kill her. It had been about time he quashed all those stupid ideas that seemed to have evolved in her brain. About time she remembered that he was not her pal, and stopped being so damn confiding.

And just when he thought she finally got the message, up she went and _fell asleep on his leg_. He barely repressed a groan thinking of those minutes he sat, petrified, staring down on the silver head resting against his thigh.

As if having her sit next to him by the fire hadn't been bad enough. He still wondered what made her do it. It had seemed like she had taken the realisation that he still was about to kill her badly, that she would curl up into herself and lick her wounds, and to be honest, he'd been glad about it. At least this way it would be easier to keep away from her.

But suddenly he saw her peer at him out of the corner of his eyes, and then, as if pulled by strings, she padded over to the fire, wrapped in her – _his_ – blankets, and sat down next to him. She'd said nothing, just sat there, staring into the fire, but he got the impression she was expecting something from him. What, he could not tell. Food? An apology? To tell her he'd thought better of it? Well, whatever it was, she'd get nothing out of him.

Except he _had_ given her some food. He'd been determined not to, since she would not get up and work for it, but he could hear her stomach growling, and the noise was starting to grate on his nerves. It had nothing to do with pity. Or that he had been impressed that she did not even allow herself as much as a glance at the meat. Nothing at all.

And she sat next to him, the shine of the flames dancing over the shimmering silver of her hair, her cheeks rosy from the warmth, hugging her knees to her chest, staring into the fire with a wistful expression on her face. Giving off the air of... waiting. It had been bad enough, but he'd managed to ignore her. Or at least to pretend to. But then he could see her eyelids droop, and with a sigh, her head sank to the side...

And there he had been, paralysed, just staring down into her face, relaxed with sleep, and showing a happy smile as she snuggled closer, and caught himself wanting to reach out, wanting to let his fingers glide over the smooth skin of her cheek and down the perfect curve of her neck.

Bad, bad, bad. So he shook himself out of it and shoved her away, jumping up from the chair. She blinked, confused, and his voice sounded hoarse in his own ears when he told her to go to sleep.

And only when she was tightly wrapped in both blankets and the metal ring secured around her ankle did he remember that she was wrapped in _both_ blankets. As in no blanket left for him.

But nothing would get him to stand up and walk over to fetch his blanket. Because he knew that if he did, he would not walk back again.

Bishop tried to wrap his arms around himself, his knees drawn up under his chin, and shivered when another cold draught crept through the cabin. And wondered how she would react once she realised that tomorrow would be _the_ day. Her last.

The night was very long. And very, very cold.

He was up with the first hint of dawn, grabbing his still damp cloak and fleeing the hut without bothering to rekindle the fire. He sat outside, huddled into his cloak, feeling cold and damp and miserable as he watched the sky reddening with what promised to be a beautiful morning. After the clouds had poured themselves out last night, the day would be all sun and blue skies.

For some irrational reason that bothered him. It did not seem right for the sky to be bright and blue and the sun to smile down on them while he shoved her off the cliff. He'd have preferred the weather to be as grey and miserable as he felt inside.

At last, when the sun was already sending its rays through the leaves, he heard a rattling of chains in the cabin that told him the girl was finally awake as well. He closed his eyes, battling for resolution. In the end, he pushed himself upright and entered the hut, feeling like his boots suddenly weighted a ton as he walked.

He fumbled for the key around his neck, reluctantly turning his eyes to the girl. She was sitting with her back against the wall, his shirt in her hands – mending the rip left from the fight yesterday. She looked up at him and showed him a small, trembling smile.

"I... I would have washed it first", she said, quietly. "But I could not reach the fireplace." She indicated at her foot without letting go of the shirt. "If you could take this off, I will try to get the blood out after I'm finished."

For some seconds, he just stood, staring down at her, not knowing what to say. Then he wordlessly knelt down, removed the ankle ring, turned and left the cabin again.

Outside, he leaned against the wall, his eyes closed and his fists clenched by his side, taking deep breaths. This was going to be even more difficult than he thought. Why the bloody hells could she not act like a proper victim, and have hysterics? Weep, cry, scream, curse, beg? And be a general nuisance? Instead she _smiled_ at him, for the god's sake. It was not fair.

A rustling noise made him open his eyes. The girl had left the cabin and was standing on the porch, watching him with a strange expression on her face. He must be losing it, right along with his marbles, if he did not hear her moving about anymore. Either that, or she was moving quieter these days.

She blushed a bit and said: "I have to...", she indicated in the direction of the bushes and blushed some more. Even in his bleak state of mind, Bishop nearly had to smile. Gods help him, but it was cute, the way she fought her embarrassment and not quite succeeded. But at least she tried not to be as prissy anymore.

He shrugged wordlessly and went to the well, dragging up a bucket of water while she vanished in the bushes. He splashed his face and then stood, braced on the edge of the well, staring down into its dark depths. He felt deathly tired, and his head seemed to be stuffed with cotton wool. His eyes were burning with the lack of sleep, and it seemed hard work to keep them open. It had been one hell of a night.

He should get it over with. The longer he kept her around, the more difficult it would get to finally kill her. He did not know why, but the little mouse had managed to crawl under his skin in a way he had not anticipated. Very likely it was just her similarity to Riana, but whatever it was, it was bad. It made him weak. It made him look like a fool...

A hand grabbed the handle of the bucket, and he flinched.

"Can I use this?", the girl asked, haltingly. "I think I remember Nedda... my governess saying something about cold water working best with blood stains when... I once cut myself and spoiled my clothes, so…"

Blast, curse and damn. He had not heard her approaching. Again. He really was losing it. Probably it was lack of sleep that made him so unalert. It was her fault. She was the reason he had had no sleep at all that night. He really should get it over with before this went any farther.

He looked round at her and saw her look at him, that small, hesitating smile still on her face, but a worried expression in her eyes while she regarded him searchingly.

She was standing much too close. He had only to lift his hand to reach out, to touch her face...

He retreated some steps and shrugged without saying anything, taxing his brain for the best way to tell her what was about to happen. Or maybe he should not tell her at all, just take her out again and lead her to the cliffs unawares... would make the way there so much easier...

Her eyes still were fixed on his face, and the worried expression intensified, but she kept smiling and said: "Thanks. I'll try to get the stains out of your tunic, then." She turned and went into the cabin, only to return with his shirt some moments later. The rip in the sleeve seemed to be neatly mended, and she dunked the fabric into the cold water and started scrubbing at the stains.

Maybe there was no hurry after all. Why not let her finish with his shirt first. He could still kill her in the afternoon.

He watched as she worked on his shirt, her beautiful, long hair falling into her face and glinting in the light of the morning sun, while she hummed quietly to herself. Something seemed to squeeze at his chest, and suddenly, he felt the urge to run, get away from her, get her out of his sight. He turned on his heels, went into the cabin, grabbed his scimitars and marched into the line of trees without sparing her another glance.

He found the tree he had spent the last day in and swung himself up into the boughs, settling in the familiar crutch, staring up into the mocking blue sky visible through the green canopy of the leaves.

The sun had travelled quite a bit across the sky when a peal of laughter reached Bishop's ears. He looked around and frowned as he did not believe his eyes at what he saw.

The girl seemed to have decided to clean out the hut, and had taken out the bones of last night's meal. And Karnwyr had returned from his nightly excursion.

The result was that the girl had a bone in hand while Karnwyr danced around her like an excited puppy. Now and then she feigned throwing the bone, and Karnwyr darted a few steps into that direction before he realized, turned on his heels and danced around her some more.

The girl laughed with delight and feigned throwing the bone again, but this time Karnwyr jumped and caught the other end in his teeth before she could lift it over her head. She yelped in surprise, but did not let go. Then she laughed again and started pulling at the bone.

"Bad muff!", he could hear her scold mockingly. "That's my bone! Let go!"

Karnwyr gave a deep, playful growl and shook his head, worrying at the bone. She giggled and hastily fastened her grip as the bone was starting to slip from her hand under the wolf's powerful pull.

Karnwyr growled again, his ears flattened to his skull to show this was just a game, and began drawing backwards, putting all of his strength behind. The girl was inexorably pulled forward, and she giggled again, holding fast and trying to pull back.

Bishop eyed his companion with misgivings. The fearsome wolf was behaving like a lapdog.

_He likes her._

Bishop continued to watch the girl and Karnwyr play, and a strange, wrenching feeling rose in his chest, making it feel tight. He felt irrationally left out, watching from his bough, and he caught himself wishing to leave his hiding place, to join in their silly game, to catch her in his arms and roll around with her on the ground, tickling her until she was breathless and then seal her mouth with his, swallowing her laughter...

The wrenching feeling in his chest intensified at the image and he cursed, lifting his head and banging it back against the bow. He cursed some more at the pain and clutched his hair in frustration.

Gods, what was _wrong_ with him? This was supposed to be a murder scenario, not some spring fling! And yet, here he was, finding one excuse after the other so he did not have to drag her back to the cliffs and throw her down.

Enough! This was really going too far. He would not make a fool out of himself any longer. He'd do it. Right now. No more excuses.

His jaw clenched and his lips compressed into a thin line, Bishop let himself drop out of the tree and determinedly marched up to the girl and his turncoat of a companion, who was just giving another playful growl, tugging at the bone. The girl laughed again, a sweet, merry sound, and as if sensing his presence, turned and faced him, laughter still pearling from her lips, her cheeks flushed prettily and her eyes bright and sparkling.

Her sight sent a stab of longing into his heart, so intense he stopped in his tracks as if he'd hit a wall. His pulse started to race, and again he could think of nothing but of catching her in his arms, pulling her near and to press his lips to hers, to stifle that laughter with a wild and greedy kiss.

The girl must have seen something in his face, because her grip on the bone went limp, and Karnwyr, who had been tugging with all his might, nearly doubled over backwards as the resistance suddenly was gone. She straightened, her eyes fixed on his, the sparkling replaced by uncertainty and... something else. The flush in her cheeks actually intensified, and he could see her pulse flutter in her throat. Seemingly without noticing it, she took a step nearer to him...

Bishop turned and practically fled, back to the hut, into the shed, which was getting stifling hot under the rays of the sun again. Frantically, he dragged the block of wood with the axe sticking out of it outside, into the fresh air, ripped his last clean shirt over his head, threw it carelessly down into the grass, grabbed some logs from the shed, putting the first one on the wooden block, pulled the axe free and started hacking away at the wood with abandon.

He needed to vent some energy. Desperately.

Much, much later he was leaning against the wall of the shed, panting from exertion, drenched with sweat, his arms, shoulders and back hurting like a bitch. But at least he felt completely exhausted now, any stupid ideas driven from his brain by fatigue.

Groaning, he shoved himself away from the wall and took an armful of the more than generous amount of firewood he had created, carrying it to the entrance of the hut, his back and arms protesting even at that small exercise. Karnwyr was lying in the shade of the trees, muzzle resting on his paws, watching him with half closed eyes. The girl was nowhere to be seen, but she could not be far, else the wolf would have alerted him.

Bishop entered the cabin, and there she was – leaning into the fireplace, poking into the chimney with a long stick and using a word he did not think she knew. He repressed a grin that threatened to tug at his mouth and put the wood down, approaching her.

"What's wrong?", he asked, and she turned, her face red from strain.

Her eyes widened when she saw him, and she cleared her throat before she replied: "I... I think there's something stuck in the chimney. It doesn't draw properly, so maybe the wind last night..."

With a huff, Bishop closed the distance and took the stick out of her hand. "Oh, for the heaven's sake", he said, leaned into the chimney and started to poke around.

The girl hastily retreated a step, averting her eyes, while he thought he'd found the obstruction clogging the chimney. He poked at it some more, peeking inside, and suddenly, with a swooshing noise, the plug of leaves and twigs came rushing down, accompanied by a cloud of black, sticky soot. Bishop jumped back, but it was to late, and the whole mess poured over his head and into his face.

He coughed and wheezed, trying to get some air, and when he looked up, the girl stared at him, her hand pressed over her mouth. When she saw his face, he could see her eyes widen even more, and a strange chortling noise came from behind her hand. The brat was trying not to giggle, obviously.

"Not funny!", he said, but could not help but grin himself.

Her hand dropped from her mouth, and she broke into a free, bright laughter he found strangely infectious.

"Watch it, mousie", he said, trying to sound menacing, but had to admit the effect was rather spoiled by the chuckle that escaped him.

Still laughing merrily, she stepped forward and pulled a twig form his hair, and then her hand fell to his shoulder, brushing away some leaves clinging to his skin. The feel of her hand on his bare skin drove the amusement from his mind in a heartbeat, along with all remnants of exhaustion left from his wood chopping binge.

He swallowed as heat welled up in him, his breathing growing short in seconds. He stared into her face, so near, and saw her freeze, the laughter draining from her eyes, slowly, replaced by an intensity that mirrored the fire that had to be burning in his. Her lips parted, and she drew a shaking breath, her hand still on his shoulder, trembling slightly.

His hand seemed to lift itself out of his own accord as he reached out, to softly touch her cheek. Her eyes darkened and then closed as he let his fingers glide over her soft skin backwards, leaving a sooty trail, and she exhaled audibly when his hand closed around the back of her neck and he started to gently pull her forward, pull her near, trying to close those last few agonizing inches that separated his mouth from hers...

Another swooshing noise, and a second avalanche of soot and leaves poured form the chimney, covering them both, making them cough. Bishop had to release his grip on her neck, and she sprang back, still coughing.

When they finally stopped wheezing, and he opened his eyes again, he caught her staring at him with something akin to horror on her face, and she suddenly turned around, her back to him now, and grabbed her blankets from the ground, shaking them out vigorously.

Slowly, Bishop let sink in what he had nearly done. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and left the hut. Outside, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, feeling lost, bewildered, horrified as the realisation hit him.

He wanted her. Could not deny that any longer. But as if that wasn't bad enought, it still wasn't the really bad part. He had wanted a lot of women in his life. He could deal with that.

The really, _really_ bad part was that he wanted her to want him. Desperately. Wanted to see her eyes darken again like they just had done. Wanted them to burn with desire for him. Wanted her to crave his touch, to cling to him, welcome him, cry out for him. Wanted to hear his name tumbling from her lips as she clung to him, begging for more.

It was a feeling he knew so very well. The last time he had felt it it had driven him to turn on the woman he longed for, in a desperate attempt to free himself, to keep himself from drowning in those emotions, from going insane from having her so close all the time, but not being able to touch her.

And now _she_ made him feel the same way. It was like being sucked in by his past all over again. Everything that he'd tried to run from catching up with him and biting him in the butt. And he was drowning once more.

Just as he wanted to throw back his head and howl in despair, a thought rose from the depths of his brain. A black, twisted, tempting thought that whispered seductively in his mind.

He was transferring all the feelings for Riana he had repressed for so long to the little mouse. That much was clear.

But maybe... maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe he could even make the situation work for him this time. Change history, in a way. Reenact the past, and finally get the woman that was burning in his blood. Bring all that unfinished business to an end at last.

If he played his cards right.

There had been _something_ in the eyes of the little mouse just now. She had felt something, too – and it had not been revulsion. He could have sworn she would have let him kiss her. _Wanted_ him to kiss her?

Maybe, if he would play on that...

She was shy. Afraid. Of course she was. Did not want to feel attracted to him. Knew it was wrong.

But...

He was a hunter, after all. Catching elusive prey was what he _did_.

And what separated the first-rate hunter from any other idiot with bow and arrow?

Patience.

The ability to creep up to his prey unawares. To wait for the opportune moment. To know how to set a trap, and to put out just the right lure to attract the game.

To be able to wait. Quietly, silently, patiently. And strike swiftly when the moment came.

So, that was what he would do. Be a hunter again instead of a stumbling bungler. Be in control, set the trap, lure her in. Stalk her. Creep up to her without her noticing. And then strike swiftly.

Make her his prey.

And then, after he succeeded, he would be free. Of her, of his past, of Riana. Probably hadn't even been love, she just had been the woman he couldn't get. And now he had his second chance. He would use it, and get some closure at last.

And then, he would not have any trouble killing the girl anymore.

Because he would be free.

With a small, predatory smile on his face, Bishop pushed from the wall to return into the hut.


	16. Chapter 16 A Honeyed Trap

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

* * *

The first thing she noticed as she slowly rose from her restful sleep were the birds, chirping merrily in the first light of dawn. 

Liliana turned on her back and stretched with a yawn, her fingers gliding through the tangled strands of her silvery hair, and opened her eyes lazily. But at the sight of the now so familiar wooden beams and cobwebs that made up the ceiling of the hut, she felt the heavy weight of her fear and despair drag at her heart almost instantly, and her blissful drowsiness vanished as fast as the morning mist between the trees as all her painful memories rushed back in a heartbeat.

Reluctantly, she turned her head, and was both relieved and surprised to see that Bishop had already left the hut, his belongings now widely scattered across the floor. She frowned as she saw both his leathers and weapons still leaning against the wall, with only his cloak missing.

What was he doing, if he had not gone hunting again?

She sat up on her bedroll, the blankets still tightly wrapped around her shoulders, and listened intently, but heard only the melodious chirping of the birds and the soft rustling of the wind in the trees. No chopping sound of an axe, or a creaking sound from the well. Whatever he was doing, it seemed as if he had vanished into the woods for it.

Which left her alone in the hut, chained to the wall.

Liliana sighed and lifted her head to cast a searching glance through the grimy window, surprised at the various dots of blue that shimmered through the leaves and the dirt. After all this time of rainy grey, it seemed as if the sun had finally deciced to return to the woods, and she felt a sharp pain pierce her heart as she remembered that the last time she had felt its warm rays on her face, she had still been with her beloved ones.

Before _he_ had come and had taken her away.

_I should be glad he's gone_, Liliana reminded herself resolutely as she leaned her back against the wall, her eyes now staring sightlessly at the ceiling, _what do I care what he's up to, as long as it keeps him away from me?_

It was just…

Not that she actually missed his company. It was just so hard to keep herself from thinking, with no one else to distract her from her thoughts and an iron ring around her ankle which kept her shackled to the wall, forcing her to stay put.

And she really did not want to think anymore. Thinking only led her back to the memory of his harsh voice and cold eyes, telling her what fate he had in store for her, which would only lead to more misery and pain, and tears.

She sniffed and forcefully rubbed her eyes, determined to be strong this time.

She did not want to feel so miserable anymore. Merciful gods, she had been scared for so long now that she could not even remember what it felt like _not_ to be afraid for her life, every waking hour of the day.

At that thought, another memory came unbidden to her mind, the memory of a recent walk through the woods, hunting a deer, and of his arms, enveloping her to show her how to use his bow, which made her squirm uncomfortably all of a sudden.

_I have to do something_, she thought, desperately trying to shove these memories and other, similar ones back into the darkest regions of her soul, _anything, just to keep my mind off things. I'll go crazy if I don't._

Her eyes fell on the tunic Bishop had worn during the fight yesterday, still lying in a disordered heap on the ground, and felt something close to relief well through her as she reached out to fetch the torn, bloody piece of cloth. She honestly did not give a damn right now whether his clothes were neatly mended or not, but stitching would help her to clear her mind, and to keep the pain at bay.

If she could reach needle and thread.

Luckily, Bishop had rummaged through his backpack last night and had therefore shoved the sack a bit in her direction, otherwise she most likely wouldn't have been able to reach it - again. Even now she had to lay herself flat on the ground, stretching her arms as far as the chain would allow her, and it took her a couple of tries until her fingers finally brushed against the rough leather of his bag.

She dug her fingers into its side and pulled with all her strength, a soft moan escaping her at the sudden pain that spread through her hand as she tried to move the heavy bag with only one hand, but a small pull was all she needed. Finally, the backpack lay easily within her reach, and with a sigh, she lifted the heavy bag and put it down beside her resting place, opening the laces with slightly trembling hands to rummage through its depths.

It took her a while to find the small, wooden box in which Bishop kept needle and thread, and she couldn't keep herself from frowning as she stared at the slightly bent needle and the meagre, half-used reel of thread.

_Well, seems like someone does not like to spend his time mending his clothes very much_, she thought drily as she threaded the yarn through the small loop, cutting the thread with her teeth. Probably, from what she had seen of him so far, he most likely preferred to go to a merchant and simply buy some new ones, without wasting his precious time with craftsmanship like this.

There was the sound of soft footsteps approaching, and she looked up, her heart wrenching painfully as she saw Bishop now standing in the doorway, his hair damp with dew. He simply stood there, staring at her, and there was something in his eyes that made her stomach churn uncomfortably all of a sudden, an expression that she had never seen before, and it bothered her.

Maybe he was displeased because she had rummaged through his backpack again? Or because she had not washed his tunic first, like she had promised? But how was she supposed to mend the fabric without needle and thread, not to mention the fact that she could not even get up and fetch some water from the well, as long as she was chained to the wall?

He simply stood on the threshold, staring at her, his continued silence making her nervous, and so she cast him a hesitating smile, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she carefully studied his face, not knowing what to make of him.

"I… I would have washed it first," she tried to explain, her mouth feeling surprisingly dry all of a sudden, "but I could not reach the fireplace." She lifted her foot a little and continued haltingly. "If you could take this off, I will try to get the blood out after I'm finished."

The intense stare from his unusual eyes was more than a little unnerving, and she swallowed, feeling her pulse pick up in a mixture of fear and confusion as she looked up into his face, the churning feeling in her stomach intensifying forebodingly.

He moved up to her and knelt by her side, silently removing the ring around her ankle, before he stood and quietly left the hut once more, without casting her as much as a glance or saying a single word.

Liliana watched him go in confused silence, her fingers closing unconsciously around the piece of cloth in her hand, and did her best to ignore the feeling of dread that settled in her stomach as she lifted the tunic once more, trying to distract herself from his strange behaviour through her stitching.

_No more thinking_, she reminded herself while she carefully threaded the needle through the cloth. If something was bothering him, she really did not want to know.

Unfortunately, the cut hadn't been too long, and so she had finished her task all too quickly. With a sigh, she put the tunic down on her blankets and got up, walking over to the chimney and, after a nervous glance at the door, picking up his waterskin from the ground to drink thirstily, the faint taste of leather becoming more and more familiar.

Her eyes caught a flash of green and red amidst the logs next to the fireplace, and she knelt, surprised to see two apples lying half-hidden under the wood. Had Bishop brought them with him from one of his little excursions into the woods? Their skin was shrivelled and showed small brown dots here and there, but their sweet smell beckoned to her, and her grumbling stomach nudged her to give in to the temptation and devour them on the spot.

The first fruit's flesh was overly soft, but otherwise, it tasted sweet and deliciously apple-like, and so she ate it with real enjoyment, reminding herself to take it slow, no matter how much her stomach tried to goad her on to hasten her meal. After she was finished, she slowly licked the juice from her fingers, eyeing the second apple in her hand longingly, but finally put it down on the table with a small sigh.

Something seemed to be grating on Bishop's nerves, and she really did not want to ignite his temper again by eating more than her share of the food without permission.

Now that her stomach was momentarily mollified, she felt other, more basic needs try to attract her attention, and so she made her way to the door, intending to vanish into the bushes and then fetch some water from the well on her way back… and stopped dead in her tracks as she reached the threshold and saw Bishop standing close by, leaning against the wooden wall of the hut.

The light in the hut was dim even at the best of times, and so Liliana was shocked to see that his normally tan face seemed almost waxen in the bright light of day, the dark circles under his eyes even more pronounced than before, looking as if he had not slept properly for days.

She watched him leaning against the wall, his eyes closed and his hands balled to fists, breathing heavily, as if he was in pain, and felt that strange ache in her heart again as she studied his pale face. Most likely the wound in his shoulder was still hurting him, had probably bothered him the whole night. No wonder he looked so miserable…

His eyes suddenly snapped open and fixed on her, that strange expression flickering across his face again, and her heart gave another painful leap as she felt her cheeks reddening with embarrassment that he had caught her staring at him.

"I have to…", she stammered and then stopped, indicating helplessly at the bushes that surrounded the cabin, her cheeks now flaming red. Bishop just shrugged and pushed himself from the wall, making his way to the well without casting her a second glance, and Liliana hastened to vanish into the bushes, trying hard to fight down that strange ache in her chest as she knelt between the trees, her eyes staring sightlessly at the dots of blue sky above, and the slightest bit of worry crept unbidden into her heart.

_What if the wound got infected, even though I cleaned it_, she thought, frowning, _maybe I should take a look at it, change the bandages…_

_No_, another part of her reminded her sharply as she got up to slowly make her way back to the hut, _no more caretaking, remember? He's the enemy. You couldn't care less whether he's in pain or not._

But it was hard to remember the look on his pale face and the dark circles under his eyes and _not _feel the sudden urge to walk up to him, to gently stroke his cheek and tell him that everything would be alright again…

_What am I thinking?_, she gasped, the faint hint of panic that accompanied her previous trail of thoughts making her pulse speed up.

She did _not_ care. He was evil. Unscrupulous. Unfeeling. And was making her life as miserable as it had ever been. If he felt the least bit miserable himself, he most _definitely_ deserved it.

_I do not care_, she thought grimly as she determinedly walked up to the well, _I just want to earn my food, that's all. I could not care less whether he feels fine or not_.

But her resolve wavered as soon as she saw him standing there, his hands braced on the edge of the well, staring into its depths, a haunted expression on his pale face, and her heart gave another painful squeeze as she slowly approached him, resolution and pity now battling strongly in her chest.

He must have been deep in his thoughts, because he jumped as she stepped up beside him and reached for the bucket of water, obviously not noticing her presence before than.

"Can I use this?", she asked, silently cursing herself for still sounding so much like a frightened little girl, "I think I remember Nedda… my governess saying something about cold water working best with blood stains when I once cut myself and spoiled my clothes, so…"

He turned his head to look at her, and the painful squeeze in her heart intensified as she gazed into his unusual eyes, that haunted expression still on his face, and cursed again as she couldn't keep herself from giving him another small, hesitating smile, for a part of her still nourished the feeble hope that she would somehow be able to thaw the strange look in his eyes.

_Sheep._

He stepped away from her, shrugging wordlessly, but kept staring at her in such a disturbingly unnerving way that she quickly walked up to the well and opened the knot of the rope with slightly trembling hands to lift the bucket from the edge, driven by the desperate desire to return to the hut, to get some distance between them. Something _was_ bothering Bishop, and whatever it was, she did not like it.

"Thanks,", she murmured as she turned away, glad that her voice only trembled ever so slightly as she spoke. "I'll try to get the stains out of your tunic, then."

She could feel his eyes on her all the way back to the hut, scorching her even across the distance, and the dreading feeling that had stayed with her all morning made her stomach churn uncomfortably again as she put the bucket down next to the lopsided bench and walked back into the hut to fetch his tunic and the piece of curd soap, haunted by the look in his eyes.

xxx

Liliana put the bucket down on the edge of the well and looked up, lifting a hand to shield her eyes against the bright light of day. Judging from the position of the sun and the grumbling in her stomach, she guessed that it was already well past midday, and she sighed as she whiped her forehead with her hand, the warm air and thick fabric of her dress making her perspire and feeling somewhat light-headed after all the exertions of the day.

She had spent the whole day working, just to keep her mind off things. First, she had sat down on the bench to scrub Bishop's tunic, humming quietly to herself to distract her from the dreadful thoughts that had threatened to form in her mind, whispering to her in poisonous voices.

Bishop had vanished into the woods again, and, to be honest, she had been glad about it. The moment he had been out of her sight, it had felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she had relaxed a little, glad to be freed from the burning look in his eyes and that haunted expression on his face.

It had taken her a while to clean the tunic, since she had never done such work before, but finally, the bloody stains were almost gone, and she had pulled up another bucket of water to rinse the cloth and then drape it across the bench to let it dry in the sun.

Liliana smiled as she remembered her astonishment at the sight of her image in the water, her long, silvery locks a tangled mess, with leaves and little twigs all over her hair and stripes of dirt on her cheeks. The thought of what her family and friends would have to say to her, could they actually see her in her current state, had made her smile a little, and so she had scrubbed away at her arms and face with some water and had tried to undo the greatest knots in her hair with her hands to make herself the least bit presentable again, but surprisingly enough, she had realised that she did not mind her current appearance too much.

She had much more important things to worry about than a little dirt.

_I'd love to see Jeanne out here in the woods, though, trying to deal with all this_, she had mused in grim satisfaction as she had started rinsing the tunic, the thought of her friend fainting all the time rather from the dirt than her imprisonment actually making her giggle.

Working and singing had helped a lot to ease the looming feeling of dread in her stomach, and so she had decided to clean up the hut as well after she had finished the task, had cleaned out the fireplace, had removed most leaves and twigs from the floor and had even started to clean the windows, but had given up as she realised that she was only smearing the dirt rather than cleaning the glass.

So she had returned to tidying up the hut eventually, and had collected the rests of their evening meal in the bucket, intending to empty the bones some distance from the hut, so that their smell wouldn't attract any wild animals.

There came a sudden grunt from behind, and Liliana jumped, relieved to see that it was only Karnwyr, quietly making his way towards her across the clearing.

"Hello!", she said, smiling as she watched the wolf approach. "You gave me quite a fright, did you know that?"

"I was already wondering where you had vanished to," she continued as she lifted a hand to gently pat his head, "I suspect you simply spent the night in some cosy wolf den, didn't you?"

Karnwyr gave another short grunt as she started to scratch him behind his ears, but did not look up at her, his eyes fixed on a spot somewhere to her left. Liliana followed his gaze, and raised her eyebrows as she saw that the wolf was staring right at the bucket still standing on the edge of the well, and still filled with the bones of their last night's dinner.

_So much for attracting wild animals_, she mused with a small smile, and reached into the bucket to lift one of the larger bones, probably a former thigh or calf. The wolf tensed as soon as his gaze fell upon the treat that she now held loosely in hand, and his eyes darted between her face and the bone, looking… expectantly?

"What?", she asked sweetly while returning his yellow stare, "You want this?"

She lifted the bone, and Karnwyr barked in response, retreating a few steps and then starting to dance up and down in front of her, his eyes never leaving hers, hackling excitedly. As if he was expecting her to… what, throw the bone?

That thought made her raise her eyebrows in surprise while she watched his little hops and turns, still irresolute. Did wolves actually _like_ playing games like that?

_Well, I'll never know until I've tried._

So she lifted the bone over her head, watching the wolf tense immediately, and in a sudden impulse of mischievousness, just feigned throwing the bone, like she had done so many times with the dogs of her grandfather.

Karnwyr bolted off into the direction that she had indicated, but stopped after a couple of steps as he finally realised his error, and then turned around to face her once more, and Liliana couldn't help but laugh at the sight of the indignant expression on his furry face.

"I'm sorry, muff, " she smiled, feeling surprisingly light-hearted all of a sudden, "but I couldn't resist."

Karnwyr grunted noncommittally, and returned swiftly to her side, still hopping and dancing excitedly, his eyes fixed on his prey. Her misery momentarily forgotten, Liliana lifted the bone again, and was amazed to see that the wolf actually fell for her trick a second time, obviously enjoying their little game as much as she did, because he returned to her side in an instant, still hackling and yelping excitedly.

She laughed with delight and made a few steps away from the well with Karnwyr following close on her heels, dancing around her in an attempt to reach the bone she was now holding high over her head, her heart filled with sweet wonder. Who would have thought that wolves could be so much like dogs and enjoy a silly game like this, wild animal or not?

Karnwyr tensed all of a sudden, and with a powerful leap that caught her completely unawares, he snapped at the bone in her hand, his impressive jaws closing tightly around it, and started to pull.

Liliana squeaked in surprise and hastened to tighten her own grip around their quarry, unwilling to be outwitted so easily.

"Bad muff!", she laughed as she was pulled forward, "That's my bone! Let go!"

The wolf growled deep in his throat, an astonishingly playful sound for an animal his size who, just in this very moment, showed his _very_ impressive amount of sharp teeth again, and started to pull even harder, his jaws closing more tightly around the bone with a light, cracking sound.

Liliana giggled as she was pulled inexorably further and further in his direction, determined to hold on while she searched for the right footing to try and turn the tables on the little flea sling that had dared to hop in and now intended to steal her bones from her, when she felt a stare on her back, and she turned, only to find Bishop approaching them swiftly, and a faint trace of apprehension mingled with her mirth as she saw the way his lips were pressed to a thin line, his whole body seeming tense like a spring.

He stopped dead in his tracks as her eyes met his, and a strange emotion flickered across his face, one that she had never seen before, but not the haunted expression that he had worn in the early hours of day, either.

His eyes bored into hers, seeming unusually bright, like a flame had suddenly been kindled in their depths, and she felt the same inexplicable pull towards him that she had felt last afternoon, when he had held her in his arms after Karnwyr had made his unforgettable appearance, and she swallowed, the beat of her heart accelerating noticeably while she answered his burning stare, unable to look away.

Unconsciously, her grip around the bone loosened, and Karnwyr gave a small, surprised yelp as the wolf suddenly staggered backwards, but his sound of protest went unnoticed, for her attention was solely fixed on the man standing before her, still watching her with that flaming eyes, and for the length of a heartbeat, it seemed as if his mask actually slipped away, and she was surprised to see so many, contradicting emotions chase each other on his face, making it almost impossible to read any of them properly.

He looked strangely lost, standing some steps away under the trees, watching her, and her heart gave another painful squeeze while its pace sped up even more. That fire in his eyes… wandering over her skin like a brand… was that …actually _longing_ she saw on his face?

Hesitatingly, she made a step forward, suddenly wishing to close the distance between them, to put her arms around him and let her fingers wander through his strands of mahogany hair, whispering soothingly into his ear until that look of loneliness would vanish from his eyes…

But the moment she made her first, hesitating step, Bishop abruptly turned on his heels and walked away from her, continuing his way to the hut, which left her staring after him, her chest feeling surprisingly tight all of a sudden as she watched him enter the shed, disappearing from her sight.

By every god and his mother, what had she been thinking?

She heard him rummaging in the small cabin, and then saw him stepping outside again, dragging a large block of wood along the way. An axe was sticking out of it, and the tight feeling in her chest intensified in a more than painful way as she quickly turned away from him, her hands now clutching at the stony edge of the well, and not for the first time in days she felt anger and shame ripple through her in hot, strong waves at the treacherous sting in her eyes.

Gods, what a sheep she was.

_Look at you, pathetic, weak, blubbering. You're disgusting._

It hurt to admit it, but he had been right to call her that. She _was_ pathetic, and weak. He had simply returned to the hut to chop more wood. So why was she _still_ trying to fool herself that she mattered the least bit to him, that he actually cared? There was the sharp, splintering sound of steel connecting forcefully with wood, accompanied by a strange, wailing sound, and she looked down, only to see Karnwyr standing by her side again, the wolf glancing up at her with a questioning expression in his yellow eyes, the bone now lying in the grass at her feet.

"Sorry muff,", she said quietly, and another wave of shame rippled through her as she heard her voice, sounding unusually high and strained all of a sudden, "I'm not in the mood right now. But you can keep the bone."

She reached for the bucket with slightly trembling hands and made her way into the woods without paying much attention to the place where she emptied the bones, her heart feeling so terribly heavy now that she actually found it hard to breathe.

_Merciful gods_, she thought as she finally made her way back to the clearing, following the sound of the axe echoing through the trees, _please, show mercy on one of your faithful children. Put an end to this nightmare, and I will…_

The close sound of splintering wood startled her out of her silent prayer, and Liliana looked up, surprised to see that she was now standing under the trees close to the shed, and not in front of the well, as she had expected. Reluctantly, she lifted her eyes, and couldn't keep herself from inhaling sharply as she saw Bishop standing there with the axe in hand, his chest bare, his cheeks reddened from the exertion, and hacking away at the wooden logs with abandon.

For one long moment, she remained under the trees, her eyes fixed on him, drinking in the sight of his muscles, rippling powerfully under his tanned skin every time he brought down the axe. Then it felt as if her cheeks had suddenly caught fire, and she hurried to get away from him and back to the hut before he would notice her presence.

The cool, shadowy air of the cabin was a balm to her flaming cheeks, and she let herself sink to the ground close to the door, burying her head in her hands as another wave of shame and embarrassment welled through her, choking her.

Gods, what was happening to her?

Was she losing her mind? How could he make her feel this way, cold-hearted killer that he was, tricking her into feeling sorry for him although he was the last man in all Faerun who deserved her pity?

She lifted one hand to wipe her sweaty forehead, and was startled of how hot her skin felt under her touch, almost feverish. No wonder her mind was wandering along such treacherous paths when she had exerted herself so much. She reached for the rim of her dress with both hands and used her skirt to fan her some air, sighing as she felt the cool draught wandering over her face and legs.

_Just look at me_, she thought, _my hands blackened with soot, my whole body sweating from the warm air and the work… no wonder I feel so dirty all of a sudden. _

Well, she could do something about that.

With another sigh, she stood and reached for the bucket, quietly making her way back to the well to fetch some water, keeping her eyes solely fixed on the rope as she fastened the bucket once more, trying to ignore the chopping sounds from the shed.

Quickly, she lowered the bucket into the well and pulled up some water, the warm rays of the sun making her feel light-headed again. As soon as the bucket had reached the edge, she untied the knot around its handle and lifted it with both hands, turning around to make her way back to the hut… and couldn't keep herself from casting a quick glance in Bishop's direction.

He was still working diligently, sweating clearly from the exertion, and she could see his hair clinging to his forehead as he lifted the axe once more, the single droplets shimmering brightly in the light of the sun as they slowly ran down his bare back and chest…

Liliana gulped and quickly averted her eyes, more than angry with herself as she felt that strange heat return to her cheeks in an instant. He _had_ nothing she had never seen before, after all. So why was she behaving like a simpering maiden every time he took off his tunic?

_Because I'm a sheep, that's why_, she thought angrily, her quick, agitated pace making her splash some water on the threshold. Well, no more, she swore to herself as she filled the water forcefully into the tub, rolling up her sleeves to start scrubbing away at her arms with his soap.

The water was very cold, and she shivered after the first, blissful cooling effect had ebbed away. The thought of washing her legs and feet with the same, icy water was less than pleasant, and she hesitated, casting a thoughtful glance at the now neatly cleaned chimney.

What if she made a fire to warm the water?

For one moment, she imagined his reaction, should he come back into the hut and find her warming the water so she could wash herself, but she just gave the thought a mental shrug and stood to walk over to the chimney, piling up the logs and then determinately reaching for the pouch with flint and steel.

_He_ could wash himself with icy water as much as he liked. Just because _he_ was some wild man of the woods who did not know the least bit about etiquette did _not_ mean that _she_ had to adopt his crude manners.

She waited until the flames began licking merrily along the logs and then turned around to fill the water from the tub into the pot, so that she could heat it over the fire. After she had finished the task, she lifted the iron cauldron with both hands and was already half-way on her way back to the chimney as she suddenly realised that something was wrong.

The fire was still crackling merrily, its warmth wandering over her skin like a feathery draught, but the smoke did not escape through the chimney as it was supposed to do. Instead, it wavered out of the fireplace in thick, grey clouds, and so she hastily walked over to the fire and put it out with some quick splashes of water from the pot, using her skirt to fan the smoke, coughing violently in the process.

After her eyes had stopped watering, Liliana knelt beside the ashes and carefully leaned into the chimney, staring into the narrow well. There was a dark lump clogging the chimney, probably of leaves and twigs that had been washed into the well by the storm last night, and she sighed, reaching down for the makeshift-spoon still lying next to the fireplace, trying to remove the obstruction.

But even with the branch, she could not reach it, and so she got to her feet, almost crawling into the chimney and stretching her arm as high as she could, but even now she could not reach the lump, no matter how far she stretched herself.

"Bloody… _hells_!", she hissed, breathing heavily from the strain, poking the branch forcefully into thin air.

"What's wrong?"

Bishop's cool voice echoed through the hut, strangely distorted by the well, and she jumped, for she had not heard him approach. She stepped out of the chimney, her face feeling uncomfortably hot after all that poking and cursing, and felt her breath catch in her throat as she saw him coming towards her, his chest still bare and a large pile of logs now lying on the ground, close to the door.

Her mouth felt strangely dry all of a sudden, and she forcefully cleared her throat, telling herself that she _was_ no simpering maiden. She would not let him get to her so easily ever again.

"I… I think there's something stuck in the chimney. It doesn't draw properly, so probably the wind last night…"

"Oh, for the heaven's sake!", Bishop interrupted her with a huff, that faint hint of annoyance back in his voice, and her eyes widened as he quickly crossed the remaining distance between them to take the branch from her hand, stepping up beside her and leaning into the chimney, poking around forcefully.

She could feel the heat radiating from his body, now only a few inches away from her own, while his heady scent invaded her nostrils, and hastily, she made a step back, her cheeks flaming once more.

There was a soft, hissing noise, and the lump suddenly came down in an avalanche of soot and leaves, burying Bishop's form under it. He coughed violently as he hastily retreated from the chimney, one half of his face and upper torso now covered with soot, a huge amount of leaves and twigs in his hair and on his shoulder, and at this sight, Liliana couldn't help herself but to start giggling violently, quickly covering her mouth with her hand to muffle the sound. Bishop turned around to glare at her, his eyes narrowed dangerously to slits.

"Not funny!", he snapped, but she actually saw a grin tug at the corners of his mouth.

He looked so funny, standing there in front of the chimney with his face blackened and leaves in his hair, the dark expression on his face actually reminding her of a badger that had been driven out of its den, and Liliana just couldn't help it, she had to giggle even more violently at the sight of his scowl, the sound of her laughter chiming merrily through the small hut.

"Watch it, mousie.", Bishop said in what seemed to have been an attempt to put her in her place, but the effect was rather spoiled by the soft chuckle that escaped him, his own amusement thawing the cold look in his eyes. Still laughing merrily, the sudden outburst of happiness making her feel giddy, she made a quick step forward and, without thinking, started to pull some twigs out of his hair.

The softness of the mahogany strands surprised her, and she smiled as her hand wandered down to his shoulder, gently brushing away the leaves that clung there. He tensed under her touch, and the amused look in his eyes suddenly gave way to the same burning intensity that she had seen earlier that day under the trees, and her fingers started to tremble as she looked up into his face, frozen.

For some endless moments, he just stared at her, the heat in his eyes searing her face, and then lifted a hand to bury it into her hair, his thumb now softly stroking her cheek, and Liliana inhaled sharply as she felt goosebumbs rise all over her body, staring into those burning eyes, mesmerized against her will by the smouldering heat she saw in them.

His hand wandered down the column of her throat towards her neck, the feathery touch of his caress making more shivers run down her spine as she closed her eyes for a moment, her heart thumping painfully in her chest as his rich scent invaded her senses again, making her head swim.

Slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, he leaned closer, his breath now warm on her cheek, and Liliana drew another trembling breath as her common sense began screaming at her to move away from him, to put some distance between them, but strangely enough, she felt almost paralysed, as if her feet had been rooted to the spot, unable to escape the fire that burned in those amber depths, and unconsciously, she leaned into his touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

His eyes never leaving her face, she could feel his grip tightening around her neck as he started to gently pull her towards him, his face now only inches away from her own, and there was a sudden yearning in his eyes, like a silent plea not to turn him away.

She gulped, her throat feeling so terribly dry all of a sudden, and watched in fearful anticipation how he pulled her closer and closer, their lips now only a breath apart, almost touching each other…

There was another hissing noise, and a second avalanche of soot and leaves poured from the chimney, covering them both. Thick, dark clouds of ash filled the air, burning in her eyes and lungs, and Liliana hastily retreated from the chimney, her violent coughs mingling with Bishop's own forceful wheezing.

The first urge to cough slowly subsiding, she rubbed her eyes, blinking her tears away, and froze as her gaze fell upon Bishop, now standing a few feet away from her, still coughing violently, and at his sight, it felt as if a huge downpour of icy water flooded down her back, chilling her to the bone.

_Merciful gods…_

She had let him _hold_ her. Had simply allowed him to caress her cheek, had offered no resistance against his touch, had…

…_had even leaned _into_ his touch! _

_The feeling of his fingers, softly stroking her skin, their feathery touch making her shiver…_

…_the silent plea in his eyes, rekindling that sweet ache in her heart almost instantaneously, making it impossible for her to turn away from him…_

…_his scent invading her senses, that intoxicating odour of sun and leaves making her head spin and her heart constricting painfully, making her lean into his touch, following his pull willingly, her eyes fixed on his lips, filled by the sudden yearning to have him touch her, to feel…_

Liliana gasped as an icy claw closed firmly around her heart, squeezing it mercilessly while her guts were coiling like snakes, realisation hitting her like a fist in the belly.

_No! This cannot… I would never…_

Bishop coughed one last time and then straightened his shoulders, lifting his head to look at her, and it felt as if a sharp knife had been driven deep into her heart, twisting forcefully in her chest.

For the length of a heartbeat she kept staring at him, her pulse pounding loudly in her ears. Then a strange feeling rippled through her, an icy wave of panicked fear that she had never experienced before, and hurriedly, she turned away from him, grabbing the blankets lying on the ground at her feet and starting to shake them out vigorously, only to do something, _anything_ to keep herself from staring into his eyes, into his face, to distract her from what had just happened.

She could feel Bishop's eyes on her back, watching her while she deftly worked on the cloth before he quietly left the hut, the door closing behind him with a soft, creaking noise. The moment he was gone, Liliana fell on her knees and buried her head in her violently trembling hands, that icy wave of despair still clawing at her heart.

How could she let him touch her like that, even allow him to…

_No, _she thought forcefully, trying to shove the memories away as another wave of panicked fear threatened to choke her,_ it was an accident. It means nothing!_

She pressed the hand with Cedric's ring against her chest, covering it with the other while closing her eyes with a small sob as guilt began to mingle strongly with her fear.

_It means nothing_, her mind repeated its silent mantra again and again while Liliana fought to keep her body from shaking so badly, fear and guilt now forming a tight, icy knot in her belly.

_He means nothing to me, _she promised the memory of her fiancé, clutching his ring with trembling hands._ He's evil, a cold-blooded killer, and I hate him. _

She had exerted herself. Days and days of constant fear and privation had finally weakened her mind, and so she had started to confuse things. Had simply craved a single sign of affection, a sign that she was more to him than just an assignment, but a woman who actually lived and breathed.

But that meant nothing. It was wrong, of course, and she would have to be more alert in the future to keep her mind from playing her such tricks again, but she would manage.

She had recognised the danger, after all. She would have to be more vigilant, and then she would never give in to that weakness again.

Liliana lifted her hands and rubbed her eyes, forcing her breathing to become calm and regular once more, fighting for some balance.

_Get a grip on yourself_, her mind urged her on. _You can deal with this. You are strong! _

Drawing another deep, shaking breath, she slowly got to her feet and made her way back to the chimney, kneeling beside the iron pot to splash some water onto her face. The icy liquid helped a lot to regain her composure, cooling her feverish skin, and she sighed, relieved that her hands now trembled only ever so slightly, the waves of fear and guilt that had been constantly rippling through her body slowly subsiding.

Good.

She would never let him see that he had almost gotten to her.

The door gave another one of its ominous creaks, and Liliana jumped, the beat of her heart speeding up noticeably as she heard Bishop's footsteps echoing through the hut once more, another wave of that icy panic welling through her.

What was she supposed to do now?

_Move. Get away from him. Ignore him. _

So she hastily got to her feet and made her way back to her corner of the hut without casting him as much as a glance, sitting down on the wooden planks and resuming her work with her blankets, slowly folding the large sheets of cloth, glad that she had something to do besides just sitting there, desperately trying to ignore the sounds of his movements.

There was a soft swooshing noise, and she looked up, startled, only to quickly avert her eyes again, hating herself for the treacherous heat that rose in her cheeks. Obviously Bishop had left the hut to wash himself and then fetch some of his things from the shed, for he was now leaning his scimitars against the wall close to the entrance, his hair dripping wet and the swooshing sound a result of the tunic that he had thrown down beside his backpack, which meant that only one of his shoulders was still covered with the bandages that she had fastened around his wound yesterday, allowing her another good look at his well-built and otherwise completely bared arms and chest, the single waterdroplets on his tanned skin glimmering even in the dim light of the hut.

_Gods, he could at least have covered himself up by now_, Liliana thought, annoyance now mingling strongly with her anger and embarrassment while she put down one neatly folded blanket and reached for the other.

_So much about decency._

She heard him rummaging through the pile of logs that he had put down next to the door, and then making his way over to the chimney and back again, obviously starting to build another pile of firewood besides the fireplace, but she ignored him as best as she could, her gaze solely fixed on the rough piece of cloth in her hands.

The less she looked at him, the better.

It wouldn't do to tempt him into striking up a conversation.

Bishop made a strange sound, something between a soft moan and a hiss, and Liliana couldn't keep herself from casting him a nervous glance out of the corner of her eye, her hands tightening unconsciously around the rough fabric of the blanket in her lap.

He stood in front of the chimney, his back to her, massaging his wounded shoulder, and even in the dim light she could see the pained expression that flickered across his face as his hands touched her moist bandage, a stripe of dark liquid now staining the formerly white fabric.

"Does it hurt?"

The words came to her mind and escaped her lips before she could stop herself, and Liliana was shocked to see how easily that sweet ache had been rekindled in her heart at the sight of the pain flickering across Bishop's sharp features, making her chest swell with pity and other, much more subtle feelings she really did not want to dwell on.

At the sound of her voice, he turned his head, and once again, the sight of his unusual eyes, staring into hers, seemed to send a piercing bolt right through her heart, quickly followed by anger. Gods, what had she been thinking, addressing him herself when she had worked so hard to make him ignore her?

_Sheep. Stupid, stupid sheep!_

He held her gaze, his stare still intense, and then shrugged, graceful as a cat, but Liliana saw another almost imperceptible grimace of pain contorting his face as he did so.

"I'll live."

He turned away from her and walked back to the entrance, opening the door and leaving the hut once more, the sound of the merrily chirping birds drifting through the opening. For a moment, her eyes lingered on the spot where he had vanished from her sight, before she finally resumed folding her blanket with a small sigh, momentarily torn between care and confusion.

No wonder his shoulder seemed to bother him by every move, after he had spent most of the afternoon hacking more firewood for the chimney. And what if the moisture slowly seeped through the bandages, soaking his wound…

_Stop that!_, her mind demanded forcefully as her thoughts started to drift away. _Do not even think about it. You do not care, remember?_

Of course not.

He was evil. He was the enemy. She could not care less whether he was in pain or not. So no more questions about his well-being, and most definitely no more thinking about taking a look at his injury.

_Good._

Another soft, creaking noise from the door almost made her jump, and Bishop reentered the hut again, carrying more logs in his arms. Liliana frowned as she watched out of the corner of her eye how he made his way over to the chimney and knelt beside the pile of firewood, adding more logs to it with deliberately slow movements of his arm to be easy on his shoulder, and felt a surprisingly strong wave of annoyance ripple through her.

Gods, why did he have to be so stubborn? If his shoulder hurt _that _much, he should simply sit down and rest, and not push himself even harder.

_But it's not my problem, remember? I don't care whether he pushes himself too far._

Really?

No matter how hard she tried not to think about it, he had received this wound on her behalf, to save her from those thugs. He could have stayed in the woods, simply waiting till the men had been done with her, and then sneaking back during the night to fetch his things and leave her to her fate.

But he had decided to fight for her instead, and whether she liked it or not, she owed him for that.

_Just one look at his shoulder_, she told herself, trying to ignore the hysteric voice in her head that urged her to walk back to her part of the hut as soon as she slowly rose to her feet, making her way over to the chimney.

_I'll just change the bandages, see whether the wound got infected, and then I'm free and clear._

"Let me take a look at your wound.", she said as soon as she stood by his side, in what she hoped sounded like a cool and indifferent voice. Bishop looked up at her, his face set in its usual impassive mask, but for the fracture of a second, a strange glint shone in his eyes, and Liliana frowned as she stared down into his face.

But as soon as it appeared, it was gone, and she mentally shook herself, certain that she had only imagined things. Why would he looked pleased with himself, after all?

Bishop leaned back on his heels, watching her, and his voice was set in its usual sneer as he replied.

"Why?"

Why?

That was most definitely not the answer that she had expected, and for one long moment, Liliana could do nothing but stare at him in surprise, searching for some words while battling her sudden confusion.

"Well, I… I just thought that someone should take a look at the bandages…they are wet…"

He snorted and returned his attention to the firewood, adding more logs to the growing pile.

"No need. Bandages are fine."

One of the logs suddenly slipped from the pile, but Bishop caught it in midair with a quick flick of his wrist, another small grimace of pain showing on his face at the sudden and forceful movement.

"Oh please!", Liliana huffed angrily as soon as she saw the look on his face, torn between admiring his fast reflexes and being annoyed with just another show of his male stubbornness, trying to pay no attention to the fact that her heart had given another squeeze at the sight of his muscles, rippling under his skin as he deftly caught the log with one hand.

"The cloth is almost dripping, and even a blind fool can see that your shoulder is hurting you, so don't try and act all tough and clench-jawed with me now. Just let me take another look at it, and I won't bother you again."

He cocked his eyebrows at her angry outburst, and then slowly got to his feet, the log still in hand, his piercing gaze fixed on her face, now staring down at her, and Liliana swallowed nervously as she suddenly realised how close she stood to him, catching a whiff of his rich scent.

For the length of a heartbeat, he just looked at her, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, calculatingly. Then his mouth lifted with a crooked smile, and he leaned a little closer, his scent rising even more prominently into her nose, and purred quietly into her ear.

"Worried about me, mousie?"

Her heart gave another painful squeeze at his words, but before she could do much more than gape at him with large eyes, he already withdrew from her and threw the piece of wood carelessly back onto the pile, the sudden noise making her jump.

"Fine.", he shrugged, his voice now as noncommittally as the expression on his face. "Do you what you have to do."

_See?_, the hysteric voice in her head piped up as soon as she quietly followed him to his bedroll, kneeling beside his backpack to search for some new bandages. _Now he thinks that you actually _do_ care about him, and will never let you hear the end of it. Well done, Liliana, well done._

Frowning at her trail of thoughts, she reluctantly returned her attention to Bishop and the wound in his shoulder, undoing the knots of his bandage with slightly trembling hands. Gods, it would be so much easier to ignore that voice in her head if her stomach would stop churning so uncomfortably at the sight of him sitting there, watching her intently while she slowly removed the linen around his shoulder, trying to ignore the way her pulse sped up whenever she came too close and accidentally inhaled his scent.

She could see the single droplets of water trickle from his dark hair, slowly making their way down his back, following the dragon scar down to the waistband of his breeches, and gulped, wondering not for the first time why she just had not been able to keep her mouth shut.

_Just one look at the wound_, she thought almost desperately as she removed the last linen layer. _Just one more time, and then I'm free and clear._

She heard him inhale sharply as the last piece of cloth finally fell away, and felt a stab of guilt and pity at the brief grimace of pain that flickered across his face as she lifted the bandage from the wound.

"I'm sorry.", she replied soothingly as she threw the old bandage on the wooden floor, trying to feel not too guilty for hurting him. Bishop just growled and shook his head, but Liliana couldn't help but feel another stab of pity as she saw the tense expression on his face.

Promising herself to try and be a little more gentle from now on, unscrupulous thug or not, she leaned closer, carefully examining the wound. The cut looked a lot nastier than it had yesterday, with scab building all over the wound, but there was no pus, and after carefully probing the wound with her fingers, she was certain that with another clean bandage, it would heal fine in time.

"And?"

She almost jumped as she felt Bishop's breath on her cheek, murmuring quietly into her ear, and looked up, only to find his face just inches away from her own, his eyebrows drawn up, watching her expectantly.

Now that he sat so close to her, she could see small dots of green and gold circling his iris, and she stared, strangely fascinated by the way the light from the door reflected in his unusual eyes, a strand of his mahogany hair falling into his face, and without thinking, she lifted a hand to gently smooth the curl out of his eyes.

But as soon as the soft strands touched her fingers, she froze, and hastened to turn away from him, deliberately taking her time to put the old bandages aside and prepare the new ones, her pulse now pounding loudly in her ears.

"Looks good.", Liliana replied without thinking, her voice sounding unnaturally high and breathless, and then felt the burning desire to slap herself after she had finally realised what she had just said.

"I… I mean it heals fine.", she finished lamely, her cheeks now flaming red, feeling like they had just caught fire.

Gods, what kind of sheep was she?

Thankfully, she was keeping her back to him, for she did not think that she could stand the gloating smile on his face or the triumphant look that must be shining in his eyes, now that she had made such a complete fool of herself.

But as she finally returned her attention to his shoulder, knowing that she could not ignore her task any longer without being too obvious about her uneasiness, Bishop was just watching her without the slightest trace of malice on his face, simply waiting for her to fasten the bandage around his shoulder.

Sending a quick prayer to the gods, thanking them for him being so slow on the uptake for once, she took the linen cloth and started to dress his wound, taking painstaking care to keep her eyes solely fixed on the cut in his shoulder this time, but she couldn't keep her mind from wandering.

What _was_ happening here?

No matter how much she had tried to pay it no attention, it was hard _not_ to realise that things had somehow changed between them. There was some kind of bond now - fragile, yes, but undeniably there, and Liliana had to admit that it scared her to no end.

She thought of what had almost happened an hour ago, and felt a cool shiver run down her spine as she remembered the look in his eyes as he had bent his head, drawing her near to… to what? Kiss her? Her heart gave another frightened leap at that thought, but there were other, opposing emotions lurking in the back of her mind, making her stomach churn uncomfortably again.

Would he have kissed her, if that second avalanche of soot had not forced them to break apart? And the most important question, would she have allowed it?

Another image entered her mind, a memory of that first afternoon in the hut when she had run away from him, and the churning in her stomach increased almost painfully as she remembered the feel of his lips on hers, his weight pressing her down into the grass, a deep moan escaping his throat, and felt another wave of that icy fear well through her, her heart now beating with panicked speed.

_I would never allow this to happen _ever_ again_, she thought grimly, a sudden outburst of determined anger driving away her fear as she fastened the bandage forcefully around his shoulder. _There's no bond between us. I'm just a sheep, that's all. He does not care. He's just playing with me. But he won't get to me so easily._

"I'm done.", she stated curtly as soon as she had fastened the knot and got up, making her way back to her blankets without casting him as much as a glance. Bishop got to his feet as well, and she could see him move his shoulders out of the corner of her eye, a strange expression on his face.

"What?", she demanded, her sudden anger making her voice sharper than she had intended.

He cast her an amused glance as he shrugged with more ease this time, and a roguish grin played on his lips as he replied, his eyes glittering.

"Well, it's only half-bad."

"Oh, thank you _so_ much for the praise.", she answered acidly, but felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth as well and could have slapped herself for that notion.

_Just look at you,_ said the hysteric voice in her head, full of disapproval, _not a minute ago, you said that you would not let him get to you so easily, and now you are sitting here, bantering. No wonder that he thinks he can treat you like some kind of plaything._

Her conscience churned uncomfortably at that unwelcome trail of thoughts, and one more time, the desire to _do_ something became almost overwhelming, to let the work help her to keep her mind from thinking.

_And from paying him any attention._

"I'll clean this up.", she murmured mostly to herself, quickly walking over to the chimney and starting to gather the dark heaps of ash and leaves on the ground with her hands. But she seemed to have underestimated his sharp ears, because as soon as the words had escaped her, he addressed her in that indifferent voice again, the soft creaking of leather telling her that he was kneeling beside his backpack.

"What did you need that fire for, anyway?", he asked, the sudden, rustling sound of cloth stroking over skin indicating that he was taking on his tunic again. For one long moment, she was truly battling with herself whether she should simply ignore his question or not, but in the end, her good education won.

"I… I just wanted to warm some water.", Liliana replied quietly while she was filling the first heaps of ash into the remnants of his shrunken tunic, using the torn piece of cloth as a makeshift-bundle. "To wash myself."

Bishop was silent for a moment.

"Good idea.", he said then. She could hear him rummaging through his backpack and putting several objects on the floor, but did her best to keep her eyes solely fixed on her task, even as she heard him get up and walk past her towards the small table in the other corner, placing the things he had gathered from his backpack on its wooden surface with a soft, clanking sound.

"Why don't you take the tub and take a bath?"

_What?_

That statement made her stare up at him, her eyes wide with shock while another strong wave of that icy panic rippled through her, chilling her to the bone.

_Taking a bath? Here?_

The idea of getting out of her dress, to expose herself to him, intensified the icy waves a thousandfold almost instantly, accompanied by an irrational fear to be even more vulnerable without her garment, tempting him to do things to her, and so she quickly averted her gaze again, hoping that he would not realise how violently her hands had started to tremble all of a sudden.

"No, I don't… that won't be necessary.", she stammered in a strangely subdued voice, fearing that her heart would simply jump out of her chest in fright.

She could feel his eyes on her, watching her, and hastened to fasten the corners of her bundle, most of the ash spilling back onto the wooden planks due to her trembling fingers.

"Why not?", she could hear him ask from the other side of the hut, and then heard his footsteps echo softly through the cabin as he slowly made his way towards her until he stood by her side, and his voice got a little sharper as he went on.

"To be honest, princess, you're looking as dirty as a charcoal-burner, and…", here he bent his head a little, and Liliana shivered as he murmured quietly into her ear. "You don't smell very flowery, either."

That last comment made her look up at him even despite her fear, her cheeks reddening in a confusing mixture of righteous anger and embarrassment. It was just so… _unfair_!

Who would _not_ smell less than flowery after a few days in his company and the hospitality of this shabby hideout?

He was still standing beside her, staring down into her wide eyes, and for the fracture of a second, she saw an unreadable emotion flicker across his face before he finally averted his gaze, making his way over to the door.

"And if you're afraid I might jump you once you're out of your clothes,", he added with a wry look at her over his shoulder while he reached for his scimitars that still leaned against the wall close to the entrance, "just ask yourself if a bit of cloth could stop me if I wanted to."

Her heart gave another frightened leap at his words, and she stared at him, frozen. Had he actually read her mind?

Bishop turned his head, answering her stare, and there was a sudden mischievous glint in his eyes that she had not expected, his voice now light and mocking as he spoke.

"So no need to be prissy, princess. Or are you afraid of something else?"

"There's _nothing_ here that I'm afraid of!", she hissed angrily, getting nimbly to her feet, the suggestive tone of his voice making her fingers itch with the sudden, unhealthy desire to slap him. How _dare_ he mock her right into her face, saying such things to her, miserable thug that he was?

How _dare_ he imply that there was actually more to her actions than her not too far-fetched concern that he would _jump her once she was out of her clothes_, as he had put it so nicely?

He quirked his eyebrows at her vehement outburst, and the amused glint in his eyes intensified.

"Taking a bath, then?", he asked still in that light, mocking tone, the ghost of a smirk now lifting the corners of his mouth.

"You bet I will.", Liliana replied forcefully, and after another poisonous glance in his direction, she made her way over to the chimney to replace the still wet logs, fuming silently as she reached for flint and steel.

Gods, what a _prick_ he was.

_Prissy, am I now? Oh, I'll give him prissy._

The anger was burning hot in her blood and kept simmering in her veins all the time during her long preparations, which she spent cleaning the floor in brooding silence, simply to keep herself from glaring daggers at him while she waited for the several pots of water to warm over the fire.

Bishop had sat down at the small table and had started maintaining his gear, cleaning his scimitars with the various items he had fetched from his backpack. Under different circumstances, she would have died to get a good look at him using oil and whetstone on his weapons, and maybe would have even asked him to explain to her what he was doing and why, but now, she simply ignored him, still way too angry with him to pay him any attention.

Finally, the tub was filled with steaming water, and Liliana swallowed hard as she stared at her reflection, silently cursing herself for her own stubbornness. How had he made her do it? She did not _want_ to take a bath, here, with him only a few yards away.

But if she backed away now, she would never hear the end of it. The image of him, smirking at her refusal, that gloating glint back in his eyes, rekindled her determination, and after taking a deep breath, she made her way over to the table, promising herself to make it as quick as possible.

And, on the other hand, there _was_ actually some truth in what he had said. If he really wanted to force himself upon her, he could have done so long ago, even on that very afternoon when she had run away. Why wait for her to get out of her dress?

_It _makes_ sense, in a way_, she tried to convince her heavily pounding heart as she warily approached him, working slowly on one of his weapons with a polishing cloth. He looked up, and it chafed her to see that amused glint still in his eyes.

She shot him a rather haughty look and then simply turned around and lifted her hair, a silent order to open the laces of her corsage. She heard the chair scrape across the wooden floor as he got up, and then felt his hands on her back, answering her unspoken request.

She could feel his fingers wandering down her spine, slowly pulling the laces out of the various hooks and loops, their feathery touch making goose bumps rise all over her body, and clenched her teeth in frustration.

The gods knew that it had stung like hell that last time when he had opened her corsage, but now, she wished almost desperately that he would treat her clothes as roughly just this once, so that she could get away from him more quickly, the feel of his hands on her skin making her stomach churn uncomfortable again.

"That's enough!", she exclaimed as his fingers finally neared the curve of her hips and hastily withdrew from his touch, glad to put some distance between them, her chest feeling strangely tight all of a sudden. He watched her go and then shrugged, sitting down on the chair again, and Liliana's eyes widened noticeably as she saw him reaching for his polishing cloth, calmly resuming his work on his scimitar.

_But… he cannot… he wouldn't…_

"Are… are you going to stay here?", she asked incredulously, not believing her eyes at such a display of thoughtlessness.

He stopped in his task long enough to look up at her, and the arrogant smile on his face was enough to rekindle that simmering anger in her blood, making her fight the sudden urge to ball her fists and hit him squarely on his jaw.

"Why not?", he drawled, that mocking tone back in his voice, making her fingers itch almost painfully. "Still afraid I will be overwhelmed by the vision of your beauty?"

He leaned back in his chair comfortably, and the arrogant smile on his face broadened. "Or are you even more afraid I would not be tempted at all by what you have to offer?"

"Oh, forget it!", she hissed and made her way back to the tub, fuming furiously.

_Arrogant son of a bitch._

Without thinking, she started to push the dress down her shoulders and then stopped in mid-motion, casting him an uneasy glance out of the corner of her eye. But he did not pay her any attention, his eyes fixed on the edge of his weapon, and so she quickly turned her back to him and hastened to get out of her dress and undergarments.

The water was pleasantly warm and enveloped her body as soon as she sat down in the tub, and Liliana sighed as its warmth slowly spread through her limbs, making them prickle in a more than comfortable way.

_Maybe this wasn't such a daft idea, after all. _

For a little while, she was content just to sit in the warm water, leaning against the wooden edge of the tub with her eyes closed, enjoying the warmth, before she finally reached for his curd soap and started to wash her arms and legs, scrubbing away at the soot and the dirt with abandon.

She even tried to wash her hair, but had to realise that the tub was too small for her to lean back to rinse it thoroughly, and experienced a short moment of heart-wrenching resignation and despair as she tried to scoop up some water with her hands and poured it over her head, which only made the soap run into her eyes.

It stung like hell, and she winced, forcefully rubbing her face to get the soap away, and her heart gave another startled leap as she suddenly heard the chair scraping across the floor, and Bishop's soft footsteps approached.

She hastily drew her knees to her chest, closing her arms tightly around her legs to cover herself as best as she could, and blinked at him with still watering eyes, which made his outline appear strangely blurry.

"Get up."

At the sound of his coolly spoken words, she could feel an icy shiver of dread run down her spine, and Liliana closed her arms even more tightly around her knees, her eyes wide.

"Wh… what?"

His eyes narrowed at her reaction, and there was a clear hint of annoyance in his voice as he replied, his cool gaze fixed on her.

"Princess, you obviously can't manage yourself, so I'll help. Simple as that. Besides…", here a truly wolfish grin flickered across his face, sending another shiver down her spine, "now you most definitely have nothing I've never seen before."

For the length of a heartbeat, she just stared at him, not understanding. Then the meaning of his words hit her full force, and her eyes widened again, but this time in indignation, not fear.

"You looked!", she declared accusingly, her sudden anger thawing her anxiety a bit.

His grin widened noticeably at her angry outburst, and the amused glint in his eyes ignited an almost irresistable desire to throw the soap at him.

"What did you expect? Anyway, I've seen it all now, so will you get up, or do you want to rub some more soap into your eyes first?"

For another long moment, she kept staring at him, her anger and anxiety battling strongly in her chest, not knowing what to do. He watched her struggle for a while and then simply turned his back to her, that amused grin still tugging at the corners of his mouth, and reluctantly, she got to her feet, quickly turning her back to him, her long hair falling like a wet curtain down to her waist.

She heard him move over to his backpack and cast a quick glance over her shoulder, watching him as he rummaged through his belongings and finally lifted a lovingly chased tin mug from its depths. He got up, and she quickly averted her eyes again, her heart beating painfully fast in her throat, her chest feeling unnaturally tight as she tried hard not to think about the fact that she was standing right in the middle of the hut, exposing her naked body.

She felt him step up behind her and then bent down, scooping up water from the tub with his mug and pouring it over her head. The water ran over her scalp and then down her back, and she suppressed a sigh, relishing its warmth, for the air was cooler than she had expected.

She felt his hand glide through her hair and flinched, her heart almost skipping a beat in fright, but he simply let it glide through the wet strands, fanning them out so that they would get clean more easily, and she shivered as his fingers grazed the skin of her neck with their feathery touch.

Repeatedly, he ducked the mug into the water and let its content run down her back, helping it along with his other hand, and she sighed as her anxiety slowly ebbed away.

Gods help her, but it felt so _good_, the warm water running down her back, his fingers wandering over her skin, making it tingle, and unconsciously, she leaned into his touch, another contented sigh escaping her lips.

There was a soft, thudding noise, and something fell into the tub beside her, touching her calf, but in this very instant, Bishop stepped even closer, his body now pressing firmly against her back. She could feel the delicious heat radiating from his chest, and felt a shiver of a different sort run down her spine as his hands slowly wandered from her neck to her shoulders, leaving her skin prickling in their wake.

His hands closed around her upper arms, strangely gentle in their certainty... and her heart skipped another beat as she suddenly felt his mouth on her shoulder, his tongue running slowly across her back, licking her skin, tasting her.

_Oh, merciful gods!_


	17. Chapter 17 Uproar

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

_Buffy friends might find the song somewhat familiar. The lyrics were just perfect for our story._

* * *

Bishop sat, seemingly focussed on working on his weapons, but in fact he concentrated on the rustling sound as the girl's dress fell to the floor, and he could not keep himself from peeking at her out of the corners of his eyes as she gingerly stepped into the tub, his heart accelerating nearly painfully.

Gods, she was beautiful. And soon, he would have her. He just knew it. He was getting there. Just a bit more patience, and she would swallow the bait, hook and all. If he was careful, and made no mistakes.

Before he had entered the hut, he had pulled up another bucket of water and cleaned himself as much as possible. It had not been easy to get the soot off, sticky as it was, but he'd done his best. Being dirty and stinking of sweat after chopping half a forest to splinters to vent some of his frustration was certainly not helpful while trying to lure her in. So he tried to clean himself up as much as possible.

The next thing was to get her to come to him. After what nearly had happened at the fireplace, she seemed scared out of her mind, and that would not do if he wanted to succeed in his plan. So he'd have to get her to calm down a bit, relax, and at the same time get her to come close again.

Because it seemed that his proximity, coupled with a bit of bare skin, did a nice job of confusing the hell out of her. He suppressed a grin. Honestly, that fiancé of hers had to be a right sissy. The girl certainly did not have a lot of experience, if the sight of a naked male chest threw her off her tracks like that.

But she should come to him, not the other way round, otherwise he might scare her again. If she thought it was her idea... well, that would be a different matter completely, wouldn't it?

And that was when the idea hit him. The scratch on his shoulder. She had been awfully worried about that, had insisted on patching him up, even though he told her it was nothing. If he played up on that, maybe...

And it had worked beautifully. He'd winced and hissed, pretending it hurt, but of course played it down with the same breath and was all manly and tough about it. The perfect lure, nearly irrisistable, bringing out every ounce of mother hen instinct she posessed.

It had been a full success. She'd all but forced him to sit down and let her have a look at the bandages. And a lot of naked skin as well. _Looks good_, indeed. How he had managed to keep a straight face at that he'd never know. Even now, thinking back at the words that had escaped her and the way her face went flaming red the instant she realised what she had let slip, he could barely repress a snicker.

And then – planting the idea of having a hot bath in her head, baiting her, riling her until she just _had_ to prove she was not the wimp he accused her of being – he was very satisfied with his progress so far.

The important thing now was not to lose his head, and keep from rushing things. Even though it would be hard as hells with the vision of her naked body before his eyes.

He watched her reflection in the window of the hut as she slowly lowered herself into the tub and swallowed as his mouth went dry. Hard as hells might be a real understatement...

He tried to keep his breath deep and steady and returned his eyes to his scimitars. Much safer that way.

For long minutes, the only sounds in the cabin were the soft noise of the oiled cloth on his scimitars, and the occasional sloshing of water as she moved a bit in the tub. Glancing at her from time to time, he saw that she had closed her eyes and obviously relaxed a lot. Good. He had known a bit of warm water would be just the thing.

After a while, she started to wash herself, and he had to force himself to stare very hard at his scimitars, else he could not have guaranteed for his reactions as she lifted her legs up, one after the other, to run the soap along their length, water dripping down from her soft skin, gleaming like satin in the shine of the fire...

He cursed inwardly and ripped his eyes, involuntarily drawn to the display of beauty, away again. Patience. Patience. Patience.

The low burning that crept through his body seemed to tell him differently.

He forced himself to take deep, even breaths and to concentrate on his work. Whetstone. Cloth. Oil. Next weapon.

A soft hiss accompanied by a sloshing of water interrupted his thoughts, and he ventured another glance at the girl. She had managed to soap her hair, but now obviously had trouble rinsing out the foam, because the tub was too small for her to lean back and dunk her head under the water. So she ineffectively tried to scoop up water over her head, only managing to get soap into her eyes in the process.

His opportunity to gallantly come to the rescue. Knight in shining armour and all that nonsense.

Bishop got up, and she jumped a bit when she heard him approach, protectively curling up in the tub, blinking at him with wary, if watering, eyes. He sighed inwardly. Seemed like he still needed to proceed with a lot of caution.

"Get up", he said, carefully keeping his voice completely neutral when in fact the thought of her standing in front of him, completely naked, did very funny things to his breathing.

„Wh... what?", she stuttered, alarmed.

He sighed, giving his voice a slightly impatient, exasperated note, indicating that her worries were silly and irrational.

"Princess, you obviously can't manage yourself, so I'll help. Simple as that.", he answered. "Besides...", he grinned at her, not able to resist baiting her once more, „now you most definitely have nothing I've never seen before."

For some moments, she just stared at him, then he saw her eyes widen as she got his meaning, and the uneasy expression on her face gave way to anger. Good. If he wanted his plan to work, she must not be afraid of him. Anger was much better than fear.

„You looked!", she declared accusingly.

He grinned again, with real amusement this time. Gods help him, but she was cute in her indignation.

"What did you expect?", he continued to wind her up. "Anyway, I've seen it all now, so will you get up, or do you want to rub some more soap into your eyes first?"

For a moment, she glared daggers at him, and he smirked once more, his expression indicating clearly that he expected her to chicken out, and with a shrug turned his back to her, as if dismissing her, and had the satisfaction of hearing a sloshing noise again as she got up.

This was nearly going too smooth.

Suppressing another snicker, he took his mug from his backpack and turned back to her, standing in the tub with her back to him, naked as the gods had created her, her long, wet hair hanging in a heavy curtain down to her waist.

He swallowed, his amusement evaporating as other, fiercer emotions shot through him. How ever was he supposed to keep his cool when she stood just inches before him, totally naked, smelling of soap and her own sweet scent, her bare shoulders peeking tantalisingly through the wet strands of hair?

He inhaled deeply, trying to force his heartbeat to slow, to calm his breathing, and started to rinse her hair, scooping up clean water from the pot with his mug, trying not to touch her in the process. Safer that way. But it was no use, he could not get the soap out of her hair without helping it along with his other hand.

He let his left hand glide through her hair, fanning it out, so he could get it clean, his fingers grazing the skin of her neck repeatedly in the process, and a prickling feeling started to wander from his fingertips upwards.

He fought the impulse to lean in and press his lips to her neck, forced himself to concentrate on his task instead, but he could not keep his breath from growing short. He simply wasn't able to take his eyes from the small drops of water that glittered on her bare shoulder in the warm, flickering light of the fire, teasing him, beckoning to him... he wanted nothing more than to bend his head and lick away those little, sparkling pearls...

The girl leaned into his touch, sighing softly. His heart skipped a beat, and he could feel his control slipping, patience forgotten as a bolt of desire shot through him.

Heedlessly, he let his mug drop into the tub, his hands wandering from her neck to her shoulders. Leaning close, he slowly ran his tongue over her skin, his heartbeat turning to a staccato. He heard her gasp, a tremor going through her body, and he fought, fought against the hot wave of lust that flooded through him, as he gently kissed his way to her neck, taking it oh so slow, because he knew that if he allowed himself just one fervid move, his control would snap completely and nothing, nothing would keep him from taking her right here and now, whatever her feelings on the matter.

And that was not what he wanted, he tried to remind himself, even as his brain seemed to turn to mush. He did _not_ want to take her by force. He did _not_ want to press himself on her. He wanted to break her resistance, wanted to make her feel the same need that burned in him, wanted to see that passion in her eyes, wanted to hear her moan, wanted her to call his name...

Just the thought made his knees weak.

A low, growling noise rose in his throat, and, his control wearing thin, he sank his teeth in her neck, staking his claim on her. Marking her as his.

She made a strange sound, something between a sob and a moan and sprang forward, out of his grip, out of the tub, and then turned to face him, slowly retreating, trying to cover herself with her hands, panic written all over her face.

He'd scared her. Had not taken it slow enough. Stupid mistake. It just was so hard to keep the lid down on all the want that boiled up in him... But her face was flushed, her eyes were wide and unfocussed, her lips parted under her short, uneven breath.

Her wall was crumbling. But he'd have to be more careful.

"Get dressed", he said softly, not following her, even if the hunger inside him demanded to be fed. But that would be a bad move. He'd have to get her to feel safe again before he could try to undermine her defences completely.

He could hold back, he told himself. For now. Hunting elusive prey was a waiting game, after all. But his quarry was about to get caught in his trap, he could see. Just a little while longer.

He turned his back to her while she fumbled for her dress and took a deep swig out of his water skin, trying to get more of a grip on himself, trying to calm down at least some.

When the cessation of the rustling noises behind him told him that she had finished dressing, he turned again and slowly stalked her, his eyes fixed on hers. The flush on her face had abated somewhat, but when she saw him approaching, her eyes widened again, and she slowly retreated until her back hit the wall. Trapped, she could only stare helplessly, a wild mixture of emotions chasing each other in her gaze, and he could see her start to tremble again.

He stopped when he was nearly touching her, his gaze still holding hers. She looked like the proverbial rabbit, facing the snake, hypnotised. He lifted his hand and gently ran his fingers over her cheek. He bent forward and her eyes closed, while she drew in a shaking breath.

"Turn around so I can fasten the laces", he murmured into her ear, his voice low.

Her eyes opened again, confusion written all over her face, and he had to keep himself from smiling. Not what she had expected.

She turned, still looking confused, and he slowly laced the bodice of her dress, taking care to let his fingers graze her back as much as possible. Again, she shivered under his touch.

When he was done, he went back to the tub, drew his shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor. When he turned again, he found her eyes glued to his chest, quite a bit of colour in her cheeks now.

Again, he had to repress a confident smile. This was a game of cat and mouse. And in that case, an old and cunning cat against a young and inexperienced mouse.

"I'm afraid I will have to ask you to renew the bandages later, mousie", he purred, while he opened the knot that held them and slowly, carefully removed them, watching her as her eyes followed his hands as if hypnotised by his movements.

Oh yes. This was going to work.

Slowly, he put the roll of gauze aside and dropped his hands to his breeches, starting to undo the lacing there. Again, her eyes followed his movement, and she grew beet red, and made a weak, squeaking noise. Just like a mouse.

"Wh... what are you doing?", she asked, her voice shaking.

"Taking a bath, little mouse", he answered, still in that low, vibrating voice. "There is quite a bit of soot left in my hair, remember?"

With that, he dropped the breeches, the proof of his desire still very visible. For a moment, her eyes remained fixed on him, then she squeaked again and hastily turned away, retreating to her blankets, bringing as much distance between them as possible.

Smiling like a cat now, he stepped into the tub and leaned back in the warm water, his arms resting on the edge of the tub, closing his eyes, forcing himself to relax even further.

He was getting to her, no question about that. She was more afraid of her own reactions than of him by now. If he continued to pour oil into that fire...

The warm water helped to ease his tension some, and after a couple of minutes he took the soap, ducked under the water and started to wash himself, starting with his hair. Then he got up, shook himself, sending drops of water flying, dried himself using his shirt, and slipped into his breeches again. He put his shirt over the back of the chair so it would dry, picked up a blanket and threw it on the floor.

Time for the last act of this little play.

"Come here, mousie", he called out.

She had avoided looking at him up to now, but now she threw him a panicked glance.

"Your hair will dry much quicker in front of the fire", he said.

Still looking nervous, she came over nonetheless, seemingly relieved to find him dressed at least partly, and sat down on the blanket. He lay down next to her, lifting one hand and let his fingers glide through her wet hair lazily, again and again, fanning it out to help it dry.

After a while, she relaxed and closed her eyes, seemingly enjoying his ministrations. The burning in his blood had dimmed somewhat after the bath, and instead he now felt a strange, nearly tender feeling rise in him as he watched her face, so peaceful now...

"Sing for me, little mouse", he said softly, and without thinking. As soon as he said it, he realised he'd really like to hear the sound of her sweet voice once more before she died.

She opened her eyes slowly, as if waking from a dream, and blinked at him in surprise. But then she closed them again, drew a deep breath and her clear voice rose with the words of an old song.

_Early one morning, just as the sun was rising_

_I heard a maid sing in the valley below_

_"Oh don't deceive me, Oh never leave me,_

_How could you use a poor maiden so?"_

He listened intently, his eyes fixed on her face, the words of the song, combined with her lovely voice making him feel as if a ring was constricting around his chest, making it feel tight and breathing hard. It was a bittersweet feeling, a mixture of longing and ache, and he thought of what he would do tomorrow. For the first time, the thought brought a sharp pang of regret.

He did not want to kill her anymore. The realisation hit him like a hammer between the eyes. The thought of shoving her down that cliff made him cringe, and the thought of her gone brought a surprising amount of pain with it.

He kept listening, confused by what he felt, trying to figure out what the bloody hells was happening to him.

When the song was finished, she opened her eyes again and looked at him with a small smile on her face, but the ache was still growing in his chest, and he could only hold her gaze wordlessly.

She must have seen something in the expression on his face, because her smile faltered, and she asked quietly: "What?"

He let his fingers wander from her hair to her throat and gently touched it. "The marks are nearly gone, little mouse", he said, softly.

As soon as he had said it, he could have slapped himself. What an absolutely moronic thing to say, considering he was trying to seduce her. Clever move, reminding her that he was about to kill her. And since when was he afflicted with bouts of honesty?

He wrecked his brain for a way to make up for that blunder, but already realisation dawned on her face as she understood what he was saying, and she averted her gaze quickly. "How... how are you going to do it?", she asked, and he could hear she was trying to prevent her voice from shaking.

Too late to pull back, it seemed. That left only one way to go: Forward. And somehow, for whatever reason, thinking about killing her tomorrow had taken the thrill out of his hunt completely. And left him aching inside.

"I will to throw you down the cliff", he answered, his voice toneless.

"So... I'm going to drown", she said, and this time, her voice quivered. A single tear trickled down her cheek, but she did her best to appear brave.

A long forgotten part of him, a part of his soul he thought had been dead for many years, rose from the dark drawer he had buried it in and made him feel a wave of pity for her. He had not thought himself capable of feeling pity anymore, but there it was.

He stroked her cheek and said, hesitatingly: "If you want me to... I can make it quick, snap your neck first, so you won't feel any pain."

She turned her face to stare at him, her eyes swimming with suppressed tears, and swallowed. Then she said, nearly inaudibly: "Yes, please." And after a pause: "Thank you."

Gods. She was _thanking_ him?

He did not know what to reply to that, so he silently continued fanning out her hair, so beautiful, so soft. She returned her gaze to the fire, hugging her arms around her knees, making her look like a lost little girl. But she did not cry, she did not beg.

Her bravery touched something in his heart hysterics would never have been able to reach, and another wave of tenderness rose in his chest. He took her shoulder and drew her to him. She seemed like a doll, passive, as if nothing he did mattered anymore to her. Maybe it didn't, considering what was about to happen to her.

He drew her down, until she was stretched out beside him, her head on his shoulder and her hand coming to rest on his chest. He continued to stroke her hair, now nearly dry, and closed his eyes, savouring the feeling of having her close, of her body against his.

It felt so good... and again, not in a physical way. It felt... peaceful. Warm. Lying there, the girl in his arms, the warmth of the fire surrounding him, for the first time in years, he felt peace.

He did not want to lose that feeling again.

Yet tomorrow, he would kill her with his own hands.

She stirred a little in his arm, but only to find a more comfortable position on his shoulder, and snuggled a bit closer. He nuzzled his face into her hair and pressed a soft kiss on her temple.

Her hand started to move on his chest, lightly stroking through the wiry hair there. He closed his eyes, wanting to purr like a cat, wanting to stretch under her touch...

Screw everything. He would not do it. Devils take the rest of the money. He would just take her with him, keep her, run off with her into the woods somewhere. No matter where, as long as nobody found her there. He'd keep her and make her his.

This was his second chance, the opportunity to change the past, and by the gods, he would not waste it.

He drew a breath, searching for the right words to inform her of that change of plans, feeling strangely uneasy. Not that he'd leave her a choice in the matter, but for some reason he feared her reaction. If she was horrified at the prospect, if she rejected him... it would hurt. Gods help him, but it would hurt.

"Listen...", he started, when suddenly he felt her hand trail further down, following the thin line of hair that ran from his chest down his belly with her fingertips.

It was as if all his blood fled his brain, rushing to his lower body, and he could feel himself grow hard in seconds. His spine bowed of its own accord, his stomach muscles contracted under her touch, and he forgot what he was about to say as his whole body seemed to burst into flames.

"Playing with fire will get you burned, mousie", he squeezed out, breathlessly, rolling to his side, capturing her mouth in a savage kiss. No more holding back.

For some precious moments, her mouth opened under his, welcoming him, her hands clutching at his shoulders, and the burning in him seemed to intensify even more as she returned his kiss. But then, suddenly, she made a small noise and drew back, her hands pressing against his chest, trying to push him away.

He caught her behind in his hands and pulled her harder against him, the sensation ripping a deep moan from his throat. His mouth wandered to her ear, nibbling at her lobe, his breath coming in gasps.

"No, mousie", he whispered hoarsely into her ear, feeling her shiver when his breath tickled her. "This time, you won't run from me. This time, I won't let you off the hook."

No going back from this point.

Sucking and biting his way down her throat, his fingers sought the lacing of her dress and started to pull impatiently.

She shivered violently, her hands scrabbling at his chest frantically, catching in the chain of the amulet. "Wait", she pleaded, her voice full of panic. "It will break..."

He drew back slightly, but his fingers determinedly continued to untie the laces. Her gaze fell to his chest and she froze, her eyes widening.

He looked down and saw that the amulet had somehow opened, and the girl was staring at Riana's picture, her face ashen. Then, slowly, her cheeks started to turn an angry red, and her eyes narrowed.

When she looked up at him, her gaze was cold, and she pushed against him violently and scrambled back, to her feet. Surprised by her sudden vehemence, he let go, and she stood before him, staring down at him.

"Get your filthy hands off me!", she hissed. "Did you _really_ think that I would welcome your touch, when I have a man like Cedric by my side?" Her voice was icy as she went on. "He's a fine man, noble and honourable, while you are… you are nothing but a common thug, crawling around in the dirt, not worthy to hold a candle to him. You are disgusting. You are _scum_!"

At the end of the sentence, her voice caught, and she turned her back to him abruptly, marching over to her blanket, sitting down, hugging her knees to her chest, staring at the wall demonstratively.

It felt like a knife was twisting in his heart. Rejected. He'd thought he'd found her again, found a second chance, but history was only repeating itself. He'd been rejected once more, in favour of some pompous, sanctimonious fool who deemed himself above other folk because of that halo surrounding his skull.

This time was even worse, because, self-righteous jerk that the paladin had been, he at least had been a man worth that noun, strong and capable in his own right. But to be rejected for some pansy like that Cedric, a perfumed, polished knock-off of a man, who, considering that scene Bishop had witnessed in the woods, very likely secretly preferred boys... it was just too much.

A pain ripped through his stomach, so intense he wanted to curl up and cry, but his pride would not allow him to show her how much it hurt. So he forced himself to get to his feet, stomping over to her, shoving her flat on her blankets with his foot. He crouched down, yanking her leg out under her and clamped the iron ring around her ankle.

"I may be scum, princess", he snarled, "but you're nothing but fish bait, and you'd do good to remember that. Maybe you'll feel different about my filthy touch when that ridiculous dress is pulling you under the water!"

His hand went to her hair, grabbing it roughly, pulling her head back so she had to look at him. "By the way, you could have easily escaped that day, if you had run in the other direction", he sneered, then shoved her away, grabbed the blankets and got to his feet. "Let that thought keep you warm tonight."

He marched over to his bedroll, fighting the urge to howl in pain, to take the lopsided chair and smash it against the wall, to trash the hut, go on a senseless, violent destructive spree just to vent his pain and fury on anything.

He threw himself on his bedroll, but could not stand the inactivity, his mind racing, his stomach knotted, the pain still ripping through him like hot knife. He'd have to do something, anything, to keep his mind off things.

He sprang up again, snatched a log of wood from the pile next to the fireplace, grabbed his dagger and started to hack away at the wood mindlessly, his thoughts in a turmoil.

He was such a fool to let himself fall for her innocent act. She was just like all the others, uppity bitch, only out to tear a man's heart from his chest and rip it apart.

To think he had been willing to throw in his lot with her, take her with him, maybe teach her how to live in the woods she loved so much... To think he had been prepared to let her in, had been ready to trust again... no, had been _wanting_ to trust again, desperately wanted it to be true...

Only to have her throw the name of that sissy fiancé of hers into his face when he was at his most vulnerable.

_She_ had made him vulnerable.

Oh, he'd _enjoy_ throwing her down the cliff. And he'd draw it out, to see her cower in fear. Common thug, huh? Well, he could act like one if she insisted.

Without thinking, he worked on the wood, trying to fight the pain down, to remind himself she was nothing to him, there was no sense in feeling that hurt, when his eyes registered what he was carving at last.

A lily.

He had carved a bloody _lily_.

Yelling in frustration, he sprang to his feet, hurling the piece of wood into the corner of the hut. He wanted to scream at her, tell her to get out of his mind, but he would not let her triumph, would not let her see what she was doing to him.

But he could not stand feeling like this any longer. He'd sworn to himself not to let it happen again, never to let anyone in again, and he just could not endure it anymore. Could not take the pain. Hells knew he had been hurt enough to last him a lifetime.

He stormed out of the hut, into the shed behind it and grabbed two bottles of alcohol out of the rack. He'd drink himself senseless, drink until he passed out, and when he came to, that horror of a night would be over, and he could get rid of her and forget all this ever happened.

He drew the cork of one bottle with his teeth, spitting it out. Then, lifting the bottle to his mouth, tilting his head back, he drank deeply, the fiery liquid burning as it made its way down his throat.

When he returned to the hut, the first bottle was already half empty.


	18. Chapter 18 Shattered Dreams

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

_Buffy friends might find the song somewhat familiar. The lyrics were just perfect for our story._

_Somehow, completely screwed up my formatting this time. I tried again, with the same result. I hope I fixed everything... _

_Ack. And how I hate this censoring stuff. Of course I typed "fanfiction dot net screwed up my formatting", but it got censored out... Ack._

* * *

His lips felt surprisingly soft on her cool skin, and Liliana shivered as Bishop's mouth wandered slowly from her shoulder to her neck, leaving a trail of gentle kisses on its way while his scent invaded her senses, making her heart race in her chest.

A soft moan escaped his lips, his grip tightening unconsciously around her arms, and she gasped as a sudden wave of heat welled through her, a feverish fire that spread through her limbs, burning her self, burning her sense away, leaving nothing but the sudden desire to melt into his embrace, to feel his lips wandering over every inch of her body, searing her skin...

He growled, a low, feral sound that sent more shivers down her spine, and then sank his teeth into the bow of her neck, raking her skin. A sharp pain spread through her shoulder, seemingly fanning the heat within her, but also clearing the haze that had clouded her mind, and Liliana's eyes widened in shock as she suddenly realised what she was doing.

_Go_, shrilled that hysteric voice in her head, full of panic, _just GO_!

With a desperate moan, she sprang forward, effectively breaking his grip around her arms. Her sudden movement seemed to have caught him by surprise, for Bishop offered no resistance at her attempt to pull away from him, and she jumped out of the tub, stumbling a few steps before she finally whirled around to face him, her pulse pounding deafeningly in her ears.

He watched her go, the flickering light of the fire casting strange shadows on his face, and Liliana tried desperately to cover herself with her hands, feeling more than just physically exposed to these burning eyes that held her gaze while wave after wave of that icy fear rippled through her, freezing her to the spot.

She stared at him, her eyes wide, her breathing quick and shallow, and felt her whole body tremble violently, the enormity of what she had just done hitting her like a fist in the belly.

_No. This is not happening. This is _not_ happening! _

She watched him, terrified, ready to bolt through the door of the hut and make a run for it, should he actually try to follow her, but he just stood there, unmoving, watching her with his bright eyes, his expression unreadable.

"Get dressed.", Bishop said softly in a surprisingly calm voice. He cast her a last searing gaze and then turned his back to her, slowly making his way to the chimney and reaching for his waterskin.

For a moment, she hesitated, that icy fear still freezing her limbs, uncertain what to do. Then she made some quick steps and grabbed her dress and undergarments from the ground, hastily retreating back towards the wall, and hurriedly started donning her clothes, feeling so terribly relieved to be able to cover herself up again while her thoughts were racing in her mind like a bunch of panicked mice.

He had touched her again. And not only had she allowed it, this time, she had even leaned into his touch, had _wanted_ him to touch her. For one cursed moment, she had truly craved his touch, had longed to feel his soft lips on her skin, to have his caress ignite that fire in her blood, but now, the memory of what he had made her feel left her nauseated and her bowels coiling like snakes, bile searing her throat.

_How could I_, she thought desperately, while fear and confusion were still rippling through her in strong waves. _How could I allow this to happen_?

She did not want this. And most certainly, she did _not_ want him. There was another man she loved, another man whose touch she truly craved, and so she simply could not understand what was happening to her.

An image of Cedric came to her mind, of the love she had seen in his eyes that night they had spent under the stars down by the old boathouse, of that gentle smile that had played on his lips as he had smoothed a strand of her silvery hair out of her face, and a wave of hot shame welled through her, drowning her with its intensity, and Liliana's heart was aching so painfully under the burden of her shame that she wanted nothing more than to curl up on the floor and weep until there were no more tears left to cry.

Forcefully rubbing her eyes, trying to get at least some control of the emotional uproar that was raging inside her chest, she cast a panicked glance at Bishop, and was more than relieved to see him still standing in front of the chimney, his back to her, staring into the flames.

She had let him know. She had let him see that he could get to her, had shown him the weakness that was now constantly nagging at her mind, undermining her free will, poisoning her senses. The image of Cedric's smiling face haunted her, sending another wave of shame through her body as she remembered the gasp that had escaped her as Bishop's lips had wandered over her skin, making her feel like the most miserable and lowliest creature in all Faerun.

There were simply no words for the shame she felt, considering what she had done… and with whom. Was that really all it took? A crooked smile, a few gentle kisses, and she was forgetting all the vows she had made to her true love, almost giving herself to the man who held her captive here in the woods?

That last thought made more bile rise in her throat, and Liliana shivered as she pulled up the sleeves of her dress with still slightly trembling hands, a cool breeze from the door making goose bumps rise all over her body as it wandered over her bare back.

_Oh merciful gods… I'm so sorry, so terribly sorry…_

There was the soft sound of footsteps approaching, and she looked up, alarmed, and her heart almost caught in her throat as she saw Bishop slowly walking towards her, his face still that impassive mask, but with a strange light in his unusual eyes that made shivers of dread run down her spine.

_No_, screamed the hysteric voice in her head, _get away from him. Don't let him touch you_.

Slowly, she retreated, her eyes never leaving his face, as if her panicked stare could somehow keep him away from her, and Liliana jumped as her back suddenly hit the wall of the hut, sending another icy wave of fear through her body.

Get away from him? There was nowhere she could go. If she tried to run away, he would catch her just as easily as on that very first day when she had made that futile attempt to escape this nightmare.

So all she could do was watch in growing alarm how he came closer and closer, his eyes boring into hers, and her limbs were trembling so violently now that a part of her was wondering how she could still stand upright with her legs shaking so badly.

He stopped when he was nearly touching her, trapping her effectively against the wall, and lifted one hand to gently stroke her cheek. The moment his fingers touched her skin, she felt a tingling sensation race through her body, rekindling that treacherous ache in her heart almost instantaneously, and she swallowed, her mouth feeling so unnaturally dry all of a sudden.

How was he doing that to her?

She stared up, into his eyes, and her heart gave another aching squeeze as she saw his gaze actually softening, thawing the cold, impassive look on his face. She remembered the last time he had caressed her cheek like this, the yearning in his eyes as they had stood in front of the fireplace, and felt another wave of shame and embarrassment well through her as the memory brought the nearly irresistible desire to lift her own hand and caress his cheek, to feel the coarse stubble of his chin gently grazing her fingers…

He slowly bent his head, and Liliana closed her eyes, her heart thumping painfully in her chest while she waited in fearful anticipation for the moment when his lips would touch her mouth…

"Turn around so I can fasten the laces.", Bishop murmured quietly into her ear, his breath hot on her skin. Her eyes snapped open, and she stared at him, her pulse still racing, but now confusion mingled strongly with her fright.

He was simply watching her with an amused twinkle in his eyes, still standing close, but not drawing nearer, and she was so confused by this sudden change of events that she obeyed without question, turning his back to him and lifting her wet hair with still slightly trembling hands, trying not to wince at the cold droplets of water that were now slowly running down her back.

She could feel his hands on her skin as he started to thread the laces through the various hooks and loops, pulling gently at the strings to close her corsage, and felt goose bumps of a different sort rise all over her body. His hands were warm on her back, and she shivered, still trying to make sense of the things that were happening right now.

After what had taken place during her bath, she had been so certain that he had come over to kiss her. The memory of his soft moan as he had kissed her shoulder was still very vivid in her mind, and her neck was still stinging in the place where he had bitten her so passionately.

His fingers were grazing her neck once more, which sent another shiver down her spine, but now accompanied by a surprisingly strong wave of confusion and quickly rising anger.

Did he want to kiss her or not?

How was she supposed to make sense of him and his actions when he was so damned confusing, first telling her that she had nothing to stir his interest, only to walk over to her and start kissing and licking her skin the very moment she was getting out of the tub, and now simply lacing her dress as if nothing had ever happened?

_What if I have misjudged him?_

That thought made her feel like a sheep again, a treacherous heat creeping into her cheeks while her sudden embarrassment battled the freshly risen anger. But how could she have misjudged what had happened between them, when the sting in her neck told her so differently?

Liliana felt him fastening the laces of her corsage with one last pull before he finally moved away from her, and hesitatingly, she turned around, only to see Bishop making his way over to the tub, his back to her.

What… what if he indeed wanted to kiss her, but did not want to force himself upon her, just like he had said? If he had realised that she did not want to be touched by him, and had therefore refrained from kissing her?

That thought made a strange warmth spread through her body, a startling mixture of gratefulness and relief that made her heart ache with sweet pain once more. She had lost all illusions by now that she could actually do something to stop him, should he ever decide to take her by force, and the images that were brought up by that trail of thought made her stomach churn more than uncomfortable again.

But that there was still a part left of him that seemed to have enough sense of honour to stay away from her, murderous thug or not, was something that she had not expected, and she felt another wave of that grateful relief well through her as she watched him stop beside the tub, reaching for the hem of his tunic.

With one powerful pull of his arms, he ripped the tunic over his head to let it carelessly fall onto the wooden planks at his feet, and the sight of his bare back made the hysteric voice in her head shrill in alarm once more while her heart sped up nervously, that treacherous heat creeping back into her cheeks.

What was he up to?

Bishop turned around to face her, and again, the sight of his unusual eyes, staring into hers, was enough to send a piercing bolt right through her heart, making her chest feel tight and her breathing heavy.

"I'm afraid I will have to ask you to renew the bandages later, mousie.", he said in that low, vibrating voice that always sent shivers down her spine, while his hands slowly undid the knot that held the linen cloth fastened around his shoulder.

She watched as he carefully removed the bandages, knowing that it would have been more appropriate to avert her eyes, but the thought of having him at her back, not knowing what he was doing, was actually more frightening than just staring at his bare chest, and so she watched, her eyes fixed on him, trying to pay no attention to the way her breath seemed to become more and more irregular the longer she stared at his exposed skin.

Finally, the linen cloth fell to the floor as well, and her heart gave a panicked jump as she suddenly saw his hands wandering to his breeches, slowly undoing the laces there.

_Merciful gods…_

"Wh… what are you doing?", she squealed in an unnaturally high and breathless voice, and could only barely refrain from flinching as she heard how clearly her growing fear had been edged into every single spoken word.

"Taking a bath, little mouse.", Bishop replied calmly, his hands still working on the laces, and the purr in his voice sent another foreboding shiver down her spine. "There is quite a bit of soot left in my hair, remember?"

And without warning, he let go of his breeches, and Liliana's eyes widened in shock and surprise as she gaped at him, standing before her with all his clothes gone, leaving little to nothing to her imagination.

Mesmerized, she watched the light of the fire wandering over his tanned skin, the dancing shadows putting his muscles into sharp relief, and without really noticing, she slowly licked her lips as her eyes drank in the sight of his body, slowly wandering from his well-trained chest and arms down to his rear, her mouth feeling surprisingly dry all of a sudden.

_Gods, he's beautiful._

The spell was broken the very moment her gaze fell on his loins, and with an unbelieving and embarrassed little squeal, she hastened to turn away from him, hurriedly retreating to her corner of her hut while her cheeks felt like they had been set on fire.

By every god and his mother, what had she been thinking, staring at him like that?

He had been _naked_. And she had gaped at him like a simpering maiden, as if she had never seen a man before. As if she had _wanted_ to take a look at him. As if she had _liked_ what she had seen.

_Just imagine what your mother would have to say about such an indecent behaviour_, her mind scolded acidly, fanning the flaming heat in her cheeks.

_You should be ashamed of yourself!_

Liliana sat down on her blankets, firmly staring at the wall ahead, focussing on the iron chain of her ankle ring while she desperately tried to shut out the soft, splashing noises as Bishop stepped into the tub.

Gods, did she feel ashamed!

How could she have stared at him like that? Just imagine what would have happened if her love had stepped through the door in that very moment, finally coming to her rescue - only to see her there, ogling the man standing before her, naked as the gods had created him…

She gulped and firmly closed her eyes for a moment, desperately trying to banish the images from her mind, of what he had let her see, but found that she could not. To think that only mere moments ago, she had still been wondering whether he had wanted to kiss her or not…

Only to have him suddenly standing there, his arousal clearly visible even in the dim light of the fire, telling her unmistakably that he indeed seemed to have _some_ feelings for her…

Another wave of that icy fear welled down her spine, and Liliana gasped sharply as she momentarily fought against the panic that rose in her chest, trying to gain at least some control on her fear.

_He kept away from me_, she tried to calm her terribly racing heart, her fear coiling like snakes in her stomach.

No matter what he had wanted from her, he had refrained from going after her. If she kept away from him, if she did not give him any idea at all that she actually _wanted_ this kind of attention, she would be fine.

There was another splashing sound from the tub, followed quickly by the sound of trickling water.

_Looks like he has started to wash himself._

She imagined how he would scoop up some water with his hands to wash his hair, and swallowed hard at the image of how the water would slowly trickle down his face, over the sharp line of his jaw, his eyes closed against the soap…

_Don't. Don't. Don't._

But she could not get the image out of her mind, of how the light of the flames would lick over his lean body, of the single droplets of water that would be running down his broad back, following the dragon scar...

_Stop! Stop this instant!_

Barely repressing a groan, Liliana forcefully rubbed her temples in a desperate attempt to keep her mind from wandering that path any further. Merciful gods, where did all these strange feelings come from, she wondered with rapidly growing embarrassment and despair while her heart beat so terribly fast as she fought very hard against the images that threatened to flood her senses. Had she finally lost her mind, after all these days of perpetual terror?

Was that what going mad felt like, starting to long for the man who held her captive here in the woods?

At that thought, it was as if an icy claw scraped slowly down her back, and she gasped at the sudden wave of terror that pulsated through her veins.

_No! No way._

This was _not_ longing!

Longing was what she felt for her Cedric, a yearning so gentle that it warmed her heart, strengthening her, genuine and pure. _This_ was more like an illness, a growing sore that slowly poisoned her mind, weakening her senses, dragging her down… and how could it be any different, considering that it was _he_ who made her feel this way?

There was nothing genuine about him, nothing warm or gentle, nothing caring.

Her conscience squirmed uncomfortably at that thought, trying to remind her of the rare moments where he had indeed shown her a different side of his cold, obnoxious self, but she forcefully shoved these images away, not willing to let these memories undermine her determination.

She did not want to take things into consideration. She did not want to be fair. She wanted to blame him for all the misery that he made her feel, for being so ashamed of herself because he could make her confuse things, and that was so much easier when she kept seeing him as the villain, and not… well, someone else.

There was a loud sloshing noise behind her, and she could hear Bishop get up again, obviously finished with his bathing. She listened to the sound of the water trickling back into the tub as he stepped onto the wooden planks, and involuntarily, the image of his body rose from the back of her mind, bringing in its wake the thought of how the light of the flames would now flicker over his tanned skin, of the shimmering droplets of water, flowing over the rim of his shoulder blades and then down to his rear…

_Oh no, _piped the hysteric voice in her head, alarmed, y_ou are not going to look, understand? He's far away from you, and you will hear him, should he actually come anywhere near you. You are _not

Her conscience rattled on, reason literally screaming at her to let it go, but Liliana could not keep herself from lifting her head a little and peaking at him out of the corner of her eye, driven by a sudden urge that she could not really explain, even to herself, making her disregard all thoughts about proper behaviour. For the length of a heartbeat, she watched him standing there, drinking in his sight, and couldn't keep a smile from tugging at the corners of her mouth as she saw him shaking himself like a dog, sending little droplets of water everywhere.

Something cold and wet touched her cheek, startling her out of her reverie, and hastily, she averted her eyes once more, feeling the sudden desire to slap herself as another wave of icy fear and guilt welled through her body, making her shiver.

_Sheep. Stupid, stupid sheep._

She was such a bad girl. No wonder the gods had abandoned her, when she was sitting here, staring at another man…

_Another _naked _man, and that willingly!_

…while her love was out there somewhere, certainly searching for her, worrying.

That thought sent another sharp pang of guilt through her body, piercing her heart, and she lifted her hand to look at Cedric's ring, forcefully blinking the tears away that suddenly blurred her vision. She watched how the light of the fire illuminated the silver dolphin and the beautifully teardrop-shaped pearl in its snout, and almost cringed at its reproachful velvety shine, reprimanding her silently for her weakness and making her feel like the lowliest creature in all Faerun all over again.

_Oh love, I'm so sorry, so very sorry…_

"Come here, mousie.", came Bishop's voice from the fireplace, and she looked up, alarmed, her heart thumping painfully in her chest. Had he actually caught her staring? How could she have been so stupid, ogling him without need when she so desperately tried to keep him away from her?

She reluctantly turned her eyes to him, and was relieved to see that he had donned his breeches in the meantime, though her heart skipped a beat as she noticed the blanket that he had spread at his feet, right in front of the chimney.

He must have seen something of that sudden fear in her eyes, for she saw him frown at her reaction, and his voice was calm as he replied, with no hint of its usual sneer, but without that low, irritating purr either.

"Your hair will dry much quicker in front of the fire."

Liliana swallowed nervously, her mind thinking feverishly. What was she about to do? She did not want to go anywhere near him, she really didn't, but if she refused… was he not bound to get angry again? To force her to sit down beside him, no matter what her feelings were on the matter, or simply chain her to the wall again, once more ill-tempered and sullen?

She eyed him warily, trying to gauge his mood, but Bishop wore his impassive mask again, revealing none of his emotions. Now that he had said it, she could feel her wet hair on her back, the heavy curtain soaking the cloth of her dress, and hesitatingly, she got to her feet, slowly approaching him.

She walked up until she finally reached the blanket and then quickly sat down at its utmost edge, hurriedly pulling her knees up against her chest and hugging her legs, so that he would not get any ideas. She was doing this simply to get her hair drying more quickly, and not because she was so keen on his company.

Bishop silently watched her approach, his eyes shimmering in the light of the fire, and then gracefully lay down beside her as soon as she had sat down on the blanket, slowly lifting one hand to reach for her, his eyes never leaving her face.

She flinched a little as she felt his fingers glide through the wet strands of her hair, her heart speeding up noticeably, but he simply kept fanning out her hair, again and again, his eyes fixed on her face, as if drinking in her sight.

The almost intimate tenderness of the gesture made her feel more than a little uncomfortable, and so she quickly averted her face, closing her eyes so that she did not have to look at him, not knowing what to make of the sweet ache that suddenly rose in her chest.

She did not want him to be kind and gentle. Kind and gentle meant that she felt something close to gratitude for him, which was no good for her plan to see him only as the villain, to hate him properly for being such an evil and unscrupulous thug, so that she would not start to confuse things again.

"Sing for me, little mouse.", she heard him murmur softly, and opened her eyes in surprise, her heart giving another gentle squeeze as she saw him still looking up at her, the impassive mask gone and replaced by a warmth that she had never seen in him before. The ghost of a smile played on his lips, smoothing the harsh lines around his mouth, and she quickly closed her eyes again as the squeeze in her heart became almost painful.

Gods, what was happening here?

She drew a deep breath, trying to calm herself, and without thinking, she simply began with the first song that came to her mind, hoping that singing would distract her from the way the light of the flames had reflected in his eyes, and that for a split second, she had truly longed to reach for his face and gently caress his cheek.

_Early one morning, just as the sun was rising _

_I heard a maid sing in the valley below_

"_Oh don't deceive me, Oh never leave me,_

_How could you use a poor maiden so?"_

Strange that just this song had come to her mind. It was one of her grandfather's favourites, and as she sung, images rose before her eyes, of the long winter evenings that they had spent in the living room of his hunting lodge, reading and singing in front of the fireplace while Selune's light glittered on the snow and icicles that covered the window-sill and trees of the Cloak Wood, and Liliana almost smiled at the memories.

And who would have thought that he would ask her to sing again?

She had been told often that she had a quite lovely voice, and had trained diligently to improve her skill, but, well, he actually did not look like the kind of man who appreciated the fine arts very much, and so she had to admit that she felt happy and even a little proud that Bishop had asked her for another performance.

His hand kept gliding through her hair, fanning the silvery tresses, and for a moment, she almost forgot where she was, and how miserable she felt, for the joy of singing, combined with his gentle touch, send a warmth through her body that thawed her fear and despair, a strange feeling that she had never felt before, something that she could best describe as contentment.

When she finished the last line, she opened her eyes to look at him with a small, genuine smile on her face, but it faltered as soon as she saw the strange look in his eyes.

"What?", she asked quietly, not certain what to make of the haunted look on his face, her stomach churning forebodingly as his hands slowly wandered from her hair to her throat, the feathery touch of his fingertips making her shiver.

"The marks are nearly gone, little mouse.", he answered in a strange hollow voice, his fingers gliding gently over her skin, but at his words, it felt as if thousand little insects were crawling down her back and over her body, piercing her skin with their icy chitin claws, and the last remnants of her contentment evaporated like thin air as she heard the memory of another voice in her head, cold and cruel.

_Someone does not seem to like you, mousie. You will have a tragic accident. As soon as the bruises on your throat are healed._

Merciful gods!

She stared at him, wide-eyed, as the horror of realisation finally dawned on her. He was talking about her death! All this time in the hut, she had been so focussed on the here and now that she had completely forgotten why he had brought her here in the first place.

_I am paid a royal sum to dispose of you._

Somehow, she had never believed that he would truly do it. It had been too bizarre a thought to take it seriously, that someone had indeed paid him a single coin to get rid of her, but as she looked into his face, she found no malice there, no deceit… only that saddened look in his eyes, and something that, on a more familiar face, she would have read as regret.

Which meant that he was going to do it.

A strange feeling rose in her chest, a terror so icy cold that it froze her limbs and numbed her feelings, leaving her hollow and empty inside, maybe in a last, desperate attempt of her self to save her mind from the horror of her situation, clouding everything in the white mists of disbelief, making the world around her suddenly feel surreal and strangely distant, as if she was walking in a dream.

It was not a pleasant feeling, being left behind as nothing but an empty shell, but a part of her was truly thankful for that emptiness, for it helped her to keep her voice almost steady as she asked him in a quiet voice that she did not recognize as her own.

"How… how are you going to do it?"

"I will throw you down the cliff.", he replied in that same hollow tone, and she saw a strange emotion flicker across his face before she averted her eyes, the crawling on her back increasing a thousandfold as she imagined the icy waters of the Sea of Swords, closing over her head.

"So… I am going to drown.", she whispered, and strangely enough, saying it out loud somehow thawed the numb feeling in her chest, and she could feel tears well up in her eyes as a wave of misery washed over her, weakening the walls that she had erected around her soul, and for the length of a heartbeat, Liliana was truly thankful for still feeling so numb inside, because she knew that the moment the walls around her terror came tumbling down, she would never stop crying again.

She could feel Bishop reach up for her cheek and gently wipe a single tear away, and his voice was surprisingly soft as he spoke.

"If you want me to… I can make it quick, snap your neck before, so you won't feel any pain."

She turned around and looked at him, forcefully blinking the unshed tears away that still blurred her vision, and found him looking up at her, his clear gaze fixed on her, and it was as if she saw him truly for the first time, with all his masks suddenly gone, revealing a man who had long accepted the dark path his life had taken, and who had long learned to erect these walls around his soul, to keep himself as numb and indifferent as she felt inside, but who was still not beyond feeling.

In this instant, she realised that in his own, screwed way, he was truly trying to offer her a kindness, the only thing that he could think of to ease her passing, and felt strangely touched even despite the new wave of misery that welled through her at his words, the knowledge that he at least cared a little miraculously easing her pain.

She remembered how it had felt as he had choked her on that first afternoon in the woods, of the panic that had welled through her as she could not get enough air, and shuddered. No, she really did not want to go through that ever again.

"Yes, please.", she whispered almost inaudibly, still not able to believe that this was truly happening to her. "Thank you."

A part of her was watching with cynical amusement how she could murmur words of gratitude to her murderer when she was actually supposed to scream and shout and fight for her life, but somehow, that eerie numbness was still nagging at her mind, wearing her out and making her feel strangely indifferent, as if this was not really happening to her, but to some bypasser whose life she was watching with mild curiosity through a looking glass.

At some point, Bishop resumed fanning out her hair, but she did not pay it any real attention, her eyes solely fixed on the lively crackling fire, watching the dance of the flames, desperately trying to keep the walls around her soul in place, dreading the moment when her terror would finally catch up with her.

She did not want to spend the rest of her life in fear.

She thought of her Cedric, of the things that she had wanted to do with her life, of the places that she had wanted to see, of all the things that she would not be able to do anymore, and was so wrapped up in her own misery that she only realised that Bishop had taken her by her shoulders and had drawn her down to lay beside him when she felt her head come to rest against his shoulder, her body now stretched out next to him with her hand lying on his chest, the curls of reddish-brown hair feeling surprisingly soft under her fingers.

She could feel his arm close around her shoulder, drawing her against him, and then Bishop quietly resumed stroking her hair, his touch a balm to her weary self. His warmth spread through her body, the delicious heat thawing her limbs, and she snuggled even closer against his chest, taking comfort in the steady beat of his heart, his now familiar scent almost soothing.

It felt so good, lying here by his side. She knew that, in fact, it was completely irrational, but lying here in his arms, her head resting against his shoulder, breathing in his scent, she felt safe, almost sheltered, like he was her only haven in a storm. It was absolutely bizarre, considering that he was the very man who was about to kill her, but in this moment, she felt truly grateful that he was offering her this kind of comfort, and that she had been able to find some sort of peace, if only for a while.

She could feel him raise his head a little, and then felt his lips on her skin, pressing a soft kiss on her temple, but strangely enough, it felt as if life was supposed to be this way, with only the two of them lying here in front of the fire, holding each other, and without thinking, she let her hands wander over his chest, enjoying the feel of the soft curls under her fingertips.

Cedric's chest had been bare, with only one tiny little hair here and there, while Bishop's was covered with soft, reddish curls, shadowing his breast and then running in a thin line from his chest to his belly, disappearing into his trews, and Liliana had to admit that she liked the feel of the soft curls under her fingers.

There was something strangely soothing about softly stroking his chest, to feel the tiny curls glide along her skin, and curiously, she let her hand wander over his chest, past the silvery chain of his amulet and following the thin line of hair down to his stomach. Bishop seemed to have wanted to say something to her, for he had began to murmur softly into her ear, but the moment her fingertips brushed over the muscles of his stomach, he stopped in mid sentence, and she could hear him inhale sharply as his muscles contracted under her feathery touch.

"Playing with fire will get you burned, mousie.", he pressed out in a surprisingly breathless voice, and without warning, he suddenly rolled to his side, half-burying her slender form beneath him, and pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her fiercely.

The moment his lips touched her mouth, it felt as if a fire had been kindled in her belly, the same searing heat that she had felt when he had licked and kissed her skin a few hours ago, thawing the icy fear that numbed her senses, and out of an impulse, she gave in to that fire, her mouth opening under his while she leaned into his touch, feeling the sudden and almost desperate desire to let that fire take away her fear, to make her feel whole again.

He moaned, deep in his throat, and one hand closed painfully around her neck, drawing her closer, his kiss becoming even more passionate, almost savage in its intensity. She could feel the stubbles on his chin grazing her skin, the sensation of his touch, combined with his heady scent, fanning the heat within her, all the emotions that he was stirring up in her somehow merging in that space between her legs, but one feeling pierced the haze of desire that was quickly clouding her mind, some kind of instinctive panic that helped her regain at least some kind of control over her reactions, making her heart thump painfully in her chest.

This was too much, too fast!

Cedric had been so kind, so gentle, giving her all the time she needed to get used to his attentions, as she had never lain with a man before. The hungry demand that she was feeling in Bishop's kiss had rolled over her like a wave, crushing her defences, and now she was drowning in the sensation, suddenly realising that she was already way too far from the shore.

She felt like she was rushing over the edge of a fathomless pit, going faster and faster with no one to stop her fall, and frightened, she tore her mouth away from his and pushed against his chest, desperately trying to get away from him.

He followed her, his hands grabbing her behind and pulling her back against him, and another deep moan escaped his throat as his mouth closed almost gently around her lobe, his touch making goose bumps rise all over her body.

"No mousie,", he whispered hoarsely, his breathing heavy, and the wild promise that she could suddenly hear in his voice made her shiver uncontrollably, fanning both the heat and the panic within her. "This time, you won't run from me. This time, I won't let you off the hook."

He moaned once more, one hand still pressing her tightly against him while the other wandered over her back and reached for the laces of her corsage, forcefully pulling at the various strings to open her dress.

_Merciful gods…_

She could feel his mouth on her skin, passionately sucking and biting his way down her throat, and could not keep herself from inhaling sharply as she felt his tongue lick over the tinge of her breasts that was not covered by cloth while his hand was continuously grazing her back, determinately undoing the laces of her bodice.

_No… please…_

Her whole body was shaking violently now, her chest feeling so terribly tight due to the nameless panic that was still pulsating strongly in her veins, while his caresses fanned the heat within her to such a height that for a moment, she truly feared that she would simply burst into flame, and in a last feeble attempt to push him away, her fingers scrabbled over his chest… and the dolphin of Cedric's ring entangled itself with a soft clacking noise, its snout catching in the silvery chain of Bishop's amulet.

"Wait!", she pleaded, her voice sounding unnaturally high and breathless while a different kind of panic welled through her, "It will break…"

Heedlessly, she reached for her ring with a violently trembling hand, frantically trying to free it from its silvery prison, carelessly ripping at the links. One last forceful pull, and the ring finally came free, accompanied by a soft clicking sound, and Liliana looked down, a wave of relief flooding through her that her ring seemed unmarked…

… and looked at her own face, staring back at her.

She gasped, feeling all her blood run cold in an instant, and for a painfully long moment, she could do nothing but stare at the miniature painting inside the amulet in shock, her hands trembling even more violently at the unexpected sight. Then, as her mind slowly started working again, she noticed the differences.

The woman had the same silvery blonde hair and violet eyes, but the lines of her face were sharper, and she seemed older, at least a couple of years. She wore her hair in an austere plait, something Liliana rarely did, and her posture spoke of an aura of calm and strength that was evident, even in such a small painting.

She stared at the locket with wide eyes, and suddenly, everything fell into place. The way he had looked at her that very first day in the woods, as if he had seen some kind of ghost. The strange expression on his face whenever he was near her, the yearning that she had seen in his eyes…

_Forever yours,_

_Riana._

It had all been for her.

Whenever he had shown her a kindness, whenever he had looked at her with that burning in his eyes, whenever he had touched her… it had all been for _her_.

She kept staring at the locket, simply not able to turn her eyes away from that woman's face…

… _his lover's face_…

… and felt her stomach churn violently at that thought, her heart becoming so heavy all of a sudden as if it was made of lead.

How could this be?

… _but… I thought he cared…_

A sudden ache ripped through her heart, a pain so intense that it startled her out of her shell-shocked state, and it felt as if a bucket of ice water had suddenly been emptied over her head, now streaming down her back in waves, as the meaning of her actions slowly sank in.

What have I done?

To think that she… and _him_…

She had let him hold her. Had snuggled against his chest, stroking his skin, truly enjoying the feeling of having him near, feeling so safe in his embrace… only to finally give in to his kiss, a part of her even _craving_ his touch, while her Cedric…

Oh merciful gods, what have I done?

Shame rippled through her, an icy wave of self-loathing and despair that she had never experienced before, and for the length of a heartbeat, she truly feared to be sick as the realisation finally dawned on her, the shame and surprising amount of hurt that she was feeling almost tearing her apart.

Gods, what a sheep she had been!

To think that, for a moment, he had truly tricked her into believing that he cared about her, that she meant something to him, that her _touch_ meant something to him…

When all his soft whispers and moans and passionate kisses had in fact been for that woman whose miniature he wore around his neck, the woman she resembled so much that it made her feel sick. Another wave of that loathing despair ripped through her, choking her, and her chest constricted painfully under the heavy weight of her shame.

To think that she had almost given in, that she had almost betrayed her Cedric's trust in her… when all his crooked smiles and small kisses and 'little mouse's had never been for her.

_Most likely _she_ has been his little mouse long before_, she thought bitterly, and was shocked at the hurt that suddenly ripped through her, tearing at her heart with sharp claws.

She felt a hand graze her neck, and looked up, only to see Bishop staring down at her, his chest heaving heavily with his quick, shallow breath. His eyes were alight with desire, the yearning in them searing her skin, but at the sight of that almost feral hunger that showed on his face, Liliana felt something snap inside her, and a maelstrom of anger rose in her chest, black and suffocating.

Forcefully, she pushed against his chest with all her strength, shoving him back, and felt a strange kind of satisfaction at the confused look that flickered across his face as she twisted and turned beneath him to scramble back to her feet, her hurt and anger now coiling like snakes in her belly, wrapping themselves around her in knots so tight that it made it actually hard to breathe.

She stared down at him, into his eyes, that cursed locket still dangling in front of his chest, and felt the sudden desire to scream at him, to punch every inch of him that she could reach with her fists, simply to vent some of her anger and frustration… but she would not let him see.

She was stronger than that.

She would show him that she was more than just some plaything, would not let him get the idea that he had _meant_ something to her!

Which he did not.

Whatever spell he had cast upon her, it was gone, and as she stared down at him now, she felt something close to disgust at the thought of his lips on her skin, unable to understand how she could have let her instincts get the better part of her, if only for an instant.

"Get your filthy hands off me!", she hissed, her sudden anger miraculously steadying her voice. "Did you _really_ think that I would welcome your touch, when I have a man like Cedric by my side?"

Her heart gave another unexpected pang at these words, and she balled her hands to fist, her nails digging deep into her flesh to keep herself from suddenly bursting into tears as the emotional turmoil within her became almost unbearable.

To think that she had almost betrayed her love for such cheap pleasures…

_Do not let him see. Do not let him see how ashamed you are, what he did to you._

At the mention of Cedric's name, a strange emotion flickered across Bishop's face, his shoulders tensing almost imperceptibly in the dim light of the fire, and Liliana knew she had hit a nerve.

"He's a fine man,", she went on, her voice now as icy and disdainful as she could make it, driven by the overwhelming desire to hurt him back in every way that she could think of for making her feel this miserable again, for first luring her in and then playing her for such a fool, "noble and honourable, while you are… you are nothing but a common thug, crawling around in the dirt, not worthy to hold a candle to him. You are disgusting. You are _scum_!"

He simply watched her, listening to her angry tirade without saying a single word, but at the end of her little speech, Liliana could see the fire die in his eyes, replaced momentarily by that cold, unfeeling look that she knew so very well, and suddenly, she could not bear it anymore.

With a sob, she whirled around and hastily stumbled back to her blankets, letting herself fall to the floor and pulling her knees up to her chest, tightly hugging her legs while she kept her back to him, forcefully trying to blink the tears away that already blurred her vision as her anger finally evaporated into thin air, leaving only the hurt and despair behind.

_Do not let him see_, she pleaded desperately as she shut her eyes for a moment, another sob escaping her throat. _Please, do not let him see…_

She heard Bishop get to his feet, his steps quick and angry, and couldn't suppress a yelp as she felt his foot forcefully connect with her shoulder, shoving her face-down onto the floor. His hand closed painfully around her ankle, and she barely held back another pained moan as he pulled her roughly towards him, closing the iron ring around her foot.

The soft, rattling sound of the lock pierced her like a thousand needles in her heart, and Liliana's blood ran cold with fear as she half-turned and saw Bishop crouching before her, murder in his eyes.

"I may be scum, princess", he snarled, his face livid, and her heart gave another frightened pang at the malicious undercurrent of his voice, "but you're nothing but fish bait, and you'd do good to remember that. Maybe you'll feel different about my filthy touch when that ridiculous dress is pulling you under the water!"

His hand went to her hair, grabbing it roughly, and she flinched as he pulled her head back to make her look up at him, her eyes watering from the pain. "By the way, you could have easily escaped that day, if you had run in the other direction", he hissed cruelly into her ear before he finally shoved her away, his motion so forcefully that she banged with her back hard against the wall.

He grabbed the blankets and got to his feet again, sneering down into her face, and the murderous look in his eyes made her cringe. "Let that thought keep you warm tonight."

She watched with large eyes how he stomped over to his bedroll, terrified to notice the walls around her soul crumbling bit by bit as wave after wave of that icy terror welled through her, tearing at her heart, turning every breath into a painful effort, and with a sob, she pulled her legs tightly against her chest, pressing her face against her arms so that he would not be able to see the tears that now streamed down her face as the horror of the moment finally caught up with her.

To think that she could have escaped this nightmare, that she could have been saved all along… if she had only paid a little more attention to the paths that she had chosen, if she had at least _tried_ to remember the things that Marisana had told her about finding her way in the wilds…

_I don't want to die!_

That thought made her sob again, and quickly, she bit hard on her lower lip, the sharp pain helping her to hold the freshly risen tears at bay that threatened to stream down her face as well. Whatever qualms he might have had about killing her, they seemed to have been thoroughly erased by her little speech, and Liliana dug her nails deep into her flesh to keep herself from succumbing to the fear that rippled through her, her body trembling so violently now that it ached.

_Please…_

She heard him get to his feet again, and looked up, alarmed, but felt a measure of relief as she saw him stomp over to the fireplace and grab a log from the pile of firewood, reaching for his dagger and hacking away at the wood with abandon, still looking livid.

She watched how he worked silently on the wood, his motions stiff and angry, and felt a different kind of pain mingle strongly with her fear, its intensity startling her even in her panicked state of mind.

_Please… I did not mean it… don't be angry with me…_

Suddenly, she saw him jump to his feet, his quick movements catching her by surprise, and with a yell that made the blood in her veins run cold, he hurled the piece of wood into the corner, staring after it with burning eyes, his breathing heavy and his hands balling into fists, his sudden anger rolling off him in waves.

Everything about his posture _screamed_ violence, and terrified, Liliana tried very hard to melt into the wall at her back, to become truly invisible, so that he would not be tempted to vent his frustration on her.

He whirled around, and there was one painstaking second where she truly feared that all her efforts had been in vain, and that he would simply march over to her and beat her to death, driven by his sudden rage… but Bishop just stormed past her and out of the hut, the cold evening air drifting through the open door, and felt a strange relief squeeze her heart as she saw that the sun had already set in the West, the light now fading quickly between the trees.

He won't kill me as long as it's dark, she thought incoherently as that kind of panicked relief welled through her, battling her fear, it's too risky, taking the way to the cliffs in that twilight…

A shadow appeared in the doorway, and Bishop re-entered the hut, carrying two bottles of that berry liquor in his arms, and Liliana's stomach churned forebodingly as she noticed the opened and already half-emptied bottle that he was carrying in his right hand.

What was he up to?

Without sparing her as much as a glance, Bishop marched over to his bedroll and sat down again, his back against the wall, and lifted the bottle to his mouth, drinking deeply.

Her eyes widened as she watched the rapid movements of his throat, how he drank more and more of that burning liquid as if it was mere water, and felt confusion mingling strongly with her fear as he finally lowered the bottle and closed his eyes, drying his mouth with the back of his hand.

His sight reminded her forcefully of the things that he had yet in store for her, and she closed her eyes as another wave of that icy terror rippled through her, her mind racing as she searched feverishly for something that she could say or do to keep him from going through with his plan, from ending her life…

But after a while, she had to admit painfully to herself that she had no gold or jewels at hand to change his mind, that there _was_ nothing she could offer…

But what if…

He would not hesitate to kill her, of that she was certain, especially after all the things she had said to him in front of the fire… but he would never hurt his love, now would he?

_Think, Lily, think!_

He was drinking. The liquor was strong, and soon, he would be _really_ drunk, and not able to think clearly anymore. If she waited for the right time, and then pretended to be Riana, returning to him after her fight against the King of Shadows…

It should be enough to lure him to her.

_You are mad_, screamed the hysteric voice in her head, panic edged clearly into every single word, _you know nothing about that Knight-Captain of Neverwinter, except for her name, and that she was some kind of cleric. What do you think he will do to you, should he ever realise that you are trying to trick him, pretending to be her?_

The thought of what he _would_ do to her, should her little trick actually fail, sent even more violent shivers down her spine, but she fought against the sudden fear that spread from an icy lump deep within her stomach, trying to gather her senses.

_I _have_ to try it. If I do nothing, he will kill me!_

Another desperate sob rose in her chest, but she fought it down, determined to hold on and not to just sit here in pain and despair, waiting for her end. After what she had overheard from Bessy, one of her family's chamber maids whose husband was a _real_ drunk, he would soon fall asleep, anyway, and if he did… she could fetch the key from around his neck, opening the ring around her ankle, and run.

Who knows, maybe she was lucky, and he would sleep long into the next morning, giving her some kind of a head start to try that other direction he had mentioned, trying to get as much distance between them as possible, maybe meeting some travellers on her way who would help her to escape his grasp.

Maybe even her own family…

At that thought, a yearning welled through her body, a whirlwind of warmth and longing and panicked joy that she had never experienced before, and hastily, she rubbed her tears away as the trembling spark of hope had finally been rekindled in her chest.

She would be strong. She would do it. She would escape this nightmare and return to her home, and her love.

The only question was – when was the right time to try and lure him in?

So Liliana sat there and watched nervously how Bishop methodically drank his way through the first bottle, and felt a different kind of panic well through her as she saw him clumsily putting the liquor aside for a moment to grope wildly around the floor with his hands till he finally fetched his tunic from the lopsided chair, his movements already sluggish as he tried to pull the piece of cloth over his head.

Her heart gave a strange ache as she watched him fighting with his garment, feeling surprisingly heavy all of a sudden, but she shoved the notion away as she forcefully tried to keep her wits about her, her thoughts racing in her mind like a bunch of panicked mice.

The liquor seemed to be much stronger than she had thought. What if he fell asleep now, on his side of the hut? He surely looked drunk enough, and if he did, she would never be able to reach the key, and when he finally woke up in the morning…

_No!_

That unwelcome trail of thought made her shiver uncontrollably again, and after another glance at the almost emptied bottle, she decided that it was time to lay her fate in the hands of the gods and simply try her luck.

So she drew one last, shaking breath, trying to steel herself, and after a quick prayer to every deity that she could think of who might be sympathetic to her cause, she carefully cleared her throat and addressed the man before her in a quiet voice, her words carrying surprisingly far nonetheless.

"_Bishop!_"

At first, she thought he had not heard her. He had lifted his head a little as she had whispered his name, but had simply focussed his attention on the liquor bottle in his hands again, taking another deep swig and then frowning slightly as he realised that the bottle was already empty.

"Bishop... come here!", she whispered once again, more urgently this time. "Come to me..."

He shook his head, not looking up this time, and another wave of that icy panic welled through her, clawing at her heart. What if her plan did not work? What if he was too drunk already to understand what she was saying, if he wouldn't be able to move at all?

At that thought, she saw the bottle slip out of his clumsy grasp and fall onto the wooden planks, and Liliana tensed, half-expecting it to break into thousand splinters, but the bottle simply made a dull, subdued sound and rolled swiftly over the planks towards the door, out of Bishop's reach.

His eyes narrowed in confusion as he stared at his now empty hand, obviously trying to understand what had happened to the bottle all of a sudden, and the strange ache in her heart intensified as she watched him groping around once more, knowing that her time was running short.

A part of her had still hoped that she would not have to do it, that he would simply come to her when he heard her voice, but now, it was more than obvious that he would never come, even if she insisted. So she took another deep breath, her heart beating like mad all of a sudden, and addressed him urgently for the third time, her voice shaking a bit as the Knight-Captain's name came over her lips.

"Come to me, Bishop... it's me, it's Riana..."

His head snapped up at these words, and there was a strange light in his eyes as he looked vaguely in her direction from across the room, his voice barely more than a croaked whisper as he spoke.

"_Riana...?_"


	19. Chapter 19 Road's End

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

_**Be warned: This chapter is where it gets really dark. It's not rape exactly, but definitely noncon. If you feel uncomfortable with that, please don't read.**_

* * *

„Bishop!"

The whispered voice pierced the fog that surrounded his brain. He looked up, into the direction of the speaker, and the small movement made his vision swim. He lifted to bottle to his mouth to take another swig, but found it empty.

"Bishop... come here", the whispering came again. "Come to me..."

He shook his head to clear it, and nearly toppled over. He barely caught himself with one hand to the wall, letting go of the bottle which rolled away on the floor, and cursed.

He needed more booze... to forget... forget... yes, forget what...? He tried to remember until he realised how stupid that was, if he wanted to forget about it. No more trying to remember. But his heart felt heavy, even if he did not remember why...

He needed more booze.

Hadn't there been a second bottle?

He started fumbling around, his vision blurred, when the voice came a third time. "Come to me, Bishop... it's me, it's Riana..."

His head snapped up, and again everything around him seemed to swim.

"Riana...?", he croaked, his heart constricting painfully.

Riana... Riana? Riana wasn't here, she was... there had been someone else, someone...

"Yes, it's me... come to me, Bishop, come here...", the voice reached his ear again, and he forgot what he tried to remember, forgot everything but the sudden burning in his heart. He did not want to think, just wanted to believe, believe she was here...

"Riana", he whispered. She was calling him... he had to go to her...

He stumbled to his feet, fighting for balance as the floor seemed to buck beneath his feet. Slowly, carefully, he made his way across the unsteady ground, stumbling once or twice and barely catching himself against the wall.

Then his clouded vision made out a person sitting against the wall. Long, silvery hair, large violet eyes, blue dress... he blinked to clear the image, but it remained blurred before his eyes. Again, something tugged at his memory, but then she held up a hand to him, and he did not care anymore.

"It's me, come here, Bishop...", she said, softly.

"Riana", he choked out, and it was like a sob. He dropped to his knees in front of her, trying to catch her hand, but missing it somehow.

"Dead", he croaked. "Thought you were dead. Went to look for you, went back, but everything coll... collapsed, no way in, no way out, thought you died..."

He felt her hand, touching his cheek. "Shhhhh", she whispered. "It's alright, I'm here now, I'm with you."

"So sorry", he choked, feeling a sting in his eyes, leaning into her touch. How he had missed her... "Sorry... had to do it, couldn't help it. Hurt so much, couldn't bear it anymore..."

Her hand stroked his hair. "It's alright, it's all over now. I'm here with you."

His arms closed around her, drawing her near, burying his face in her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. He could feel himself start to shiver uncontrollably. Felt so good go have her near...

"Couldn't bear it", he whispered. "You and him... seeing you with him... hurt so much. Drove me crazy." He swallowed, feeling the old pain squeeze his heart. "Had to leave, wanted to hurt you, too... so sorry..." His lips grazed her skin while he talked, and he could feel a tremor of a different sort running down his spine.

Her hand continued to stroke his hair. "I forgive you", she whispered.

He sobbed once. "Please... don't go away. Don't leave me again... love you. Need you. Love you so much, Riana... don't go..."

His lips wandered up her neck, over her cheek, searching for her mouth, finding it soft and open. He moaned as he kissed her, his hands gliding through her hair again and again.

"Always wanted to do that... always wanted to touch it... so beautiful, so soft, like silk... want you so much..."

He let himself sink on the floor, pulling her with him, one hand going to her neck, stroking it, the other one gliding to her back, pressing her body harder against. He shivered again as fire seemed to spread through him.

"Want you", he repeated hoarsely, not taking his mouth from hers. The hand on her back wandered lower, starting to pull her skirt up until he could touch the smooth skin of her thigh.

He felt her stiffen under his touch, but his hand slid further up, until it cupped her behind, pulling her against him so she could feel how much he wanted her.

Her hands pressed against his chest, fighting against him suddenly, but he gripped her neck and held her in place. He let his mouth glide to her ear, softly sucking on her lobe, nibbling with his teeth, and felt her shiver, too.

"Need you", he whispered into her ear, hoarsely. "Don't say no... don't push me away. Please... can't stop now, been waiting for so long, can't stop anymore... burning inside, burning for you..."

His mouth drew a trail down her throat, nibbling and softly sucking, while his hand went from her backside to her breast, cupping it through the cloth. Too much cloth... he started fumbling with the laces of her corsage but only managed to tangle them up under his fingers.

Damned cloth... he wanted to touch her soft skin... needed to feel it against his. He lifted himself up a bit and stared down at her, his head still swimming and his vision blurred, but the need burned strong in his blood. She stared up at him with huge eyes, her face flushed, her silvery hair spread around her like moonlight. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He needed to feel her. Now.

Gripping the cloth of her corsage with both hands, he jerked with all his strength and heard a ripping noise as the little hooks and buttons holding it together gave.

She yelped, but he had only eyes for her skin, peeking through the transparent undershirt she wore. The thin fabric ripped easily under his hand and he swallowed, staring down at her white, creamy skin and her breasts, heaving with her quick, shallow breath.

"So beautiful", he whispered. "Have to feel you..."

He tentatively reached out to touch her breast, stroking it softly, hearing her whimper, and closed his eyes while the sensation made him shudder.

He simply could not hold back any longer.

He ripped his own shirt over his head, letting it fall to the ground, and made short process with the lacing of his breeches as well, impatiently shoving them down his legs, the movement making his head swim once more.

He heard another gasp from her, a panicked sound, and she started to pull away, her sudden movement accompanied by a strange rattling sound.

"No!", he said, letting himself drop on top of her. "No, don't... please, Riana... please..."

He pressed his mouth to hers again, kissing her with all the desperation and the need of years of longing. He felt her shudder under him and started to shove the dress down her shoulders. She tried to fight him again, but he was beyond caring, just ignoring her feeble attempts at pushing him away, until she stopped struggling and stilled under him.

Finally, the remnants of the dress came down, and he kicked at them with his feet to get rid of it, pulling her naked body against his.

The burning in him got so intense he thought he might just explode. He flipped her on her back, his mouth still on hers, swallowing her gasp, pushed between her legs and entered her with one steady thrust.

The sensation was nearly too much, the touch of her lips, her skin against his, her warmth enveloping him... moaning hoarsely, he stilled, fighting the urge to just let go...

Her hands gripped his shoulders, to push or to pull, he could not tell, and her breath was coming in short, heaving gasps.

He drew back and tried to be slow, and gentle... but it was of no use. He needed her just too much, and his control snapped, had never had much control anyway, and his movements quickened, his hands running over every inch of skin he could reach, his mouth still glued to hers, kissing her frantically.

"Can't last...", he gasped into her mouth. "Sorry, too much... want you too much... feels so good..." He could feel it building up in him, that energy, building up and up, until his movements became erratic, and he threw back his head and screamed, shuddering with orgasm.

Boneless, spent, he sank down next to her, drawing her into his arms, kissing her softly, tenderly. "Love you so much", he whispered. "So much, Riana. Never let you go again, never."

He felt her flinch, but then her arm went around him, stroking his chest while she snuggled up to his shoulder, and he felt happier than he could remember having ever felt before.

Somewhere in the back of his still fogged brain, something seemed to want to get his attention, but at the moment he could not care. Exhausted, contented and happy, he could feel sleep tugging at him, and with a small smile on his face, he gave in.

"Love you", he murmured once more, closing his eyes. He was asleep in seconds.

xxx

Liliana lay awake in the half-dark, the shadowy room only sparsely lit by some rays of moonlight that fell through the grimy window of the hut, and listened to the steady sound of Bishop's breathing, her heart beating like a frightened bird in her chest.

The fire had gone out a while ago, leaving her shivering in the cool night air even despite the warmth of his body, but she had not dared to move a muscle, afraid that already the smallest of movements would be enough to wake him.

She gulped, and felt the beat of her heart accelerate painfully at that trail of thoughts. She _never_ wanted to see what he would do when he finally woke up in the morning, realising what she had done. Her stomach churned painfully at that thought, and she closed her eyes as another whirlwind of emotions drifted through her, embarrassment and shame prominently among them, forming an icy knot in her belly as the images came rushing back to her mind.

To say that things had not developed the way she had expected was a cruel understatement.

At first, she had been so relieved when she had watched him staggering towards her and then falling clumsily to his knees, his unnaturally bright eyes not quite able to focus on her, but from what he had babbled, it had been quite clear that he had swallowed her bait, and had really believed that his love was sitting before him, reaching for him with a treacherously trembling hand.

She had listened intently to his incoherent words, trying to get a feel for the woman she was impersonating so that she would make no grave mistakes, that she could uphold the illusion somehow, but the more he had talked to her, the more confused she had become.

It seemed as if Bishop and Riana had not parted in good graces. She frowned as she remembered his stammered apologies and explanations, her heart feeling strangely heavy again as she had watched the pained expression on his face and had heard the desperate undercurrent in his voice, trying to explain whatever he had done.

_Couldn't bear it. You and him... seeing you with him... hurt so much. Drove me crazy._

Had Riana actually betrayed him? It was strange to think of her this way, being the heroine of Neverwinter and all, but his words had hinted clearly that Riana had had an affair with another man, maybe even one of their companions, and that Bishop had found out and then left her before she had set out for her fight against the King of Shadows, the fight from which she had never returned.

Liliana had listened to his words, and had felt a pang of pity in her heart as she had imagined Bishop finally getting the news of Riana's disappearance, how he must have returned to the Mere of Dead Man to search for her, desperately wandering the ruins, but finding no trace of his love or any of their companions…

So she had murmured soothingly into his ear, softly stroking his hair, trying to calm him down a bit, telling him that everything would be alright again… Bishop had sobbed when he had held her close, obviously relieved that he had been able to say these words that seemed to have burdened his mind for a long time, and Liliana had felt the first sting of guilt pierce her heart as she had felt his arms closing painfully around her, holding on to her as if she was his lifeline.

She had never seen him so unguarded, so vulnerable. To think that he was pouring out his heart to her, while she was playing him in just the same way that he had played her… her conscience had squirmed uncomfortably at that thought, but she had instantly tried to fight it down, reminding herself forcefully that _he_ was the villain in this particular play here, that she had no other choice, that he was willing to murder her…

But it had been hard to condemn him as she had felt him trembling in her arms like a small boy, to hear all that pain in his voice…

So she had comforted him, had even allowed him to kiss her although his breath had reeked of that berry liquor, trying to ignore the sudden ache in her heart as he had confessed his undying love to Riana, telling herself that he would fall asleep any time soon, that she could at least give him this short moment of peace to ease her conscience…

When he had lowered himself onto the wooden planks, gently pulling her with him, his lips still on her mouth, she had thought that she had finally reached her goal, had even experienced a short moment of panicked excitement that her plan seemed to work so well after all.

But then…

_No!_

Liliana closed her eyes so tightly that it hurt, her whole body tensing as she forcefully shoved the memories back into the darkest regions of her soul.

She would not think about it. Never again!

Carefully, she lifted her head and watched the sleeping man by her side, one arm circling her waist, the other still lying loosely around her shoulder, and studied his face for some endless moments, relaxed with sleep, his chest rising almost imperceptibly with his deep, regular breath.

It was time now to try and go on with her plan.

A sudden wave of fear rose in her stomach, cold and terrifying, and she gulped audibly, her body trembling not only from the cool nightair. He was as asleep as he would ever get. She had gotten her wish. He was sleeping by her side now, the key to her freedom still dangling around his neck, reflecting the moonlight, and all she had to do was to reach out for it to get away from him.

So why was her heart beating like it would jump out of her chest any moment due to sheer fright?

_… The feeling of his calloused hand on her thigh, lifting her skirt to wander over her skin and pulling her against him…_

_…quickly followed by a moment of pure terror as she feels the hard bulge through his trews, and so she looks down in alarm, into his eyes, only to see the familiar fire burning in them, searing her skin… _

_…her hands pressing forcefully against his chest now, trying to break his hold on her, but he holds her neck in an iron grip, the hand around her behind tightening painfully for a moment as he lifts his head to whisper hoarsely into her ear. _

_"Please... can't stop now, been waiting for so long, can't stop anymore... burning inside, burning for you..."_

Another shiver ran down her spine as the images came rushing back to her mind, and Liliana closed her eyes again, fighting hard to repress a sob. Fear and shame were now mingling strongly in her chest, making her feel like they were eating her alive, guilt choking her with its icy claws. Why had she not seen this coming? How could things have gotten so out of hand?

_Don't let it get to you, Liliana, _whispered that voice in her head, surprisingly soothing this time._ Stay calm, focus. Don't let it all have been in vain!_

She swallowed and blinked forcefully, determinately reaching for every ounce of courage that she could muster. She would see this through. She would not succumb to her fear and despair. She would get away from here, get back to her family, and then she could forget that all this had ever happened.

But first, she had to get the key.

Carefully, and ever so slowly, she turned in his embrace and reached for the arm around her shoulder with noticeably trembling hands, gently laying it down on the floor beside her, her wide-eyed gaze never leaving Bishop's face, watching him intently for the slightest reaction. But he just lay there, still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling ever so slowly, and relieved, Liliana let out a long, hissing breath, her pulse pounding so loudly in her ears now that a part of her truly wondered whether she was only imagining things, or if one could actually _hear_ her heart beat, echoing through the small hut like a drum.

Gingerly, she reached for his other arm, carefully trying to disentangle herself from his grasp, but this time, Bishop stirred under her touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips, and his grip tightened unconsciously around her waist, pulling her closer against him.

_"Have to feel you…" _

Freezing in mid motion, now almost petrified with fear, Liliana could feel her breath catch painfully in her throat at his sudden movement, and alarmed, she stared down into his face, her eyes wide, fully expecting his own to open any time now, settling on her, and when he finally realised what she had done…

She swallowed hard as she imagined how the confusion in his eyes would slowly give way to murderous rage, and shuddered at the image of his fist closing painfully in her hair to pull her towards him, to hiss into her ear with his cruel, unfeeling voice…

But Bishop's eyes stayed firmly closed, his breathing as deep and regular as before, and after a long while in which her body had already started to ache painfully from the sudden strain, Liliana allowed herself to relax a little, her body now shivering so violently that she could not believe that he was still sleeping beside her, blissfully unaware to her motion.

_Thank the gods for all that berry liquor!_

She closed her eyes, and after another quick prayer, she reached for his arm again, but kept her moves slow, so painfully slow, lifting his hand from her hip inch after inch, and felt another shiver run down her spine as his fingers grazed the skin of her thigh in the process.

_… the feel of his hands, wandering longingly over her body, their skin only separated by that thin layer of cloth that she is wearing…_

_… the short moment of hope and relief as she feels him fight with the laces of her garment, convinced that he would never be able to open her bodice in his current state of mind without help…_

_… she even opens her mouth to talk to him, to talk him into waiting just a little while longer, maybe even to try and lure him to sleep through another song…_

_… but then that strange expression flickers across his face, a desperation so intense that it seems to border on insanity, and with a snarl, his hands close around the hem of her corsage, the muscles in his arms tensing impressively, and with a soft, ripping noise, the cloth gives under the sudden strain…_

_…and she lays there, her eyes wide, the shock driving every coherent thought from her mind while his hand gently reaches down to caress her breast, now fully exposed to his gaze and the cool night air…_

_"…so beautiful…"_

Finally, she lowered his arm onto his thigh and carefully sat up, her heart drumming painfully fast in her chest, and held her breath, still waiting in fearful anticipation for him to open his eyes, to see right through her charade…

But Bishop just lay there, unmoving, the key glittering challengingly in a single ray of moonlight that wandered lazily over his body, the chain of his amulet barely more than a dark shadow, nestling closely against his neck and chest.

_It's now or never._

For another long moment, Liliana hesitated, casting nervous glances at her still trembling hands. But as the moonlight slowly wandered through the hut, she finally had to admit to herself that the shivering would not abate, not while she was out here in the cold, and most certainly not while her fear seemed to roam the hut like a living thing, lurking in the shadows and breathing down onto her neck.

That image made her shudder once more, and so she moved, carefully reaching for the fastening of the chain, the small silvery lock barely visible in the dim half-light that filled the room. Liliana frowned and bent her head until she almost touched Bishop's chest, casting him nervous glances out of the corner of her eye while her fingers worked clumsily on the chain, his scent rising prominently into her nose, rich and heady, stirring all these unwanted memories that she had fought so hard to bury almost instantaneously.

_… she watches how he rips off his tunic and then starts pulling at his breeches impatiently, still not fully understanding what is actually happening to her…_

_… until the last piece of his clothes finally falls to the ground, and he looks up at her, naked, aroused, that fire still burning in his eyes… the predator, stalking his prey…_

_… how she tries to scramble away from him in a sudden outbreak of panic, her chain giving a loud, rattling sound at her forceful movement… but he follows her, that fire still searing her, pleading with her, kissing her frantically…_

_… and then, when he calls to her, using that other woman's name, she remembers. Remembers who she claims to be. That he and Riana were lovers. And what he would do to her, should he look past the charade and then realise that she is trying to trick him._

_So she gives up her resistance and firmly closes her eyes, trying to shut it all out, hoping that he will just take her, that it will be over soon… and yet, she can't help to notice the warmth of his skin as he pulls her towards him, the almost feverish heat that is emanating from his body, his scent surrounding her like a curtain…_

_After what seems to be an eternity of touches, moans and screams, she feels him shudder above her, and he sinks down by her side, breathing heavily, pulling her into his arms to kiss her, so softly, so lovingly…_

_…reluctantly, she opens her eyes… and her heart constricts painfully as she sees the genuine smile on his face, making him seem so much younger, his eyes closed, looking so unbelievably happy…_

_"Love you so much… so much, Riana."_

There was a soft, clicking noise, and Liliana blinked, surprise welling through her as she stared at the open lock in her slightly trembling hands, seeing that one half of the chain had already slipped from her grasp and now lay on Bishop's chest in a small heap of silver, half-hidden in the reddish-brown curls.

That sight made a surprisingly strong whirlwind of anger rise in her chest, the hot, swirling rage battling her fear and confusion. What in the nine hells had she been doing here? She had _promised_ herself never to think of it again. So how could she let herself get distracted again, and at such a crucial moment, no less?

_Sheep. Stupid, useless, miserable sheep!_

Just to imagine the chain slipping from her grasp completely, making the amulet glide over his chest and then down his neck, landing on the wooden floor with a high, metallic sound, right next to his ear… she shuddered at the image, and sent a quick prayer of thanks to the gods for still looking out for her, no matter what a sheep she had been.

With trembling hands, Liliana slowly reached out for the two pieces of jewelry and lifted them into her palm, all the time watching Bishop's face with wide, frightened eyes, her pulse pounding deafeningly in her ears once more.

But he still did not move, and after a while, she carefully began to pull the small silver chain through the loops which bound the key, trying to ignore the unsteady way in which the silver links wandered over his skin and through the tiny curls on his chest because her fingers were shaking so badly. After what truly seemed to be an eternity of anxiety and fear, the last bits of the chain finally came free, and Liliana stared unbelieving at the two objects that now nestled neatly in her palm.

_I did it!_

A pure wave of panicked joy welled through her, the sudden relief actually making her feel giddy, miraculously taking away the shame and guilt, and she had to fight hard to keep herself from simply bursting into hysterical giggles.

_I really did it!_

She gently put the chain and the amulet down on the wooden planks beside her and then carefully moved away from Bishop's sleeping form, the key to her own chains still firmly in hand, forcing herself to make slow, deliberate movements, so that she would not spoil her incredible success in a sudden outburst of rash haste.

The iron felt cool under her fingers as she reached for the ring around her ankle with still slightly trembling hands, its lock opening with a soft, clicking sound. Slowly, she removed the metal from her leg, and felt strangely grateful for the layers of cloth that Bishop had wound around it, because the ring barely made a sound as she lowered it onto the ground, only the chain giving a soft, metallic chime even despite her best efforts.

Liliana froze, her hands still closing around the ring, and abruptly turned her head, glancing at Bishop over her shoulder with large eyes, another wave of fear mingling strongly with her panicked excitement.

But he just lay there, his breathing deep and regular, and so she relaxed once more, a soft sigh of relief escaping her lips. Slowly, she got to her feet, careful not to make another sound, and only as she made her first, trembling step over the wooden floor of the hut, she realised the enormity of what she had accomplished.

She had done it. She was _really _free!

That thought made a whirlwind of emotions run through her, disbelief, joy, astonishment and even the slightest hint of fear prominently among them, and she forcefully blinked the tears away that suddenly rose in her eyes, the turmoil within her almost more than she could bear.

But she needed to stay focussed. Free she might be, but that did _not_ mean that she was safe!

So she tried to focus on the here and now, standing in the middle of the hut, her mind still in an uproar, uncertain what to do next. Although summer was drawing near, the nights were still cold, and now that her excitement had abated somewhat, Liliana could feel goose bumps rise all over her naked body, leaving her shivering in the cool night air.

She needed some clothes!

She cast a quick glance at the remnants of her dress, lying only a few feet away in a dark heap of cloth, almost hidden in the dim twilight, and swallowed hard at the images that were brought up by the sight.

_Don't think about it_, she thought desperately as the sound of ripping cloth echoed through her mind once more, _it's ruined now, and the skirt would only have been a hindrance in the wilds, anyway._

But that left her with little choice.

The fabric of Bishop's tunic felt surprisingly soft under her fingers as she pulled it slowly over her head, the way too large shirt falling almost down to her knee, warming her freezing limbs. For a moment, his scent surrounded her, stirring even more unwanted memories, and Liliana shuddered, not knowing what to make of the sudden ache in her heart.

She was doing it. She was finally getting away from him. So why would her heart feel so heavy all of a sudden?

_Because I'm a sheep, that's why_, she thought furiously as she tiptoed over the wooden planks to Bishop's backback, determinedly resisting the unwelcome urge to look at his still sleeping form, another wave of that hot anger rippling through her.

No more confusion. No more hesitation. Time was running short, and she would be damned if she let all her suffering have been in vain!

A quick search through his backpack uncovered the pair of breeches and the piece of rope that she had worn during their hunting trip, and slowly, she pulled up the trews, stuffing the tunic under their hem and then using the rope to fasten both garments around her waist.

She turned, her eyes wandering through the hut searchingly, and discovered her shoes leaning against the opposite wall, close to the iron chains. Slowly, she made her way over the planks, gingerly reaching down for the blue suede… and at the sudden shift of weight, the plank at her feet gave a loud, creacking sound, and Liliana froze, her hands closing around her shoes, petrified, her head snapping up to stare at Bishop while another wave of that icy panic welled through her, her breath catching painfully in her throat.

_Please… no, not now… I'm so close… _

He stirred, the small movement already enough to make her heart almost burst out of her rib cage, but then simply curled up on the floor before he lay still once more, his eyes firmly closed and his breathing as calm and regular as before.

For what seemed an eternity, she kept kneeling to stare at him with wide eyes, her violently trembling hands gripping her shoes so tightly that it hurt, before she finally forced herself to get up and leave the hut, holding her breath with every step she took, silently praying to the gods to let the planks be silent, her eyes fixed on Bishop, watching for his every move.

The moonlight had wandered a bit, so that a part of his face was now cloaked in shadow, but Liliana could not help but notice how different he looked, lying there on the ground, fast asleep, the moonlight bathing his normally tanned skin in pale, white light.

So unguarded. So vulnerable.

_…She can't help to notice the warmth of his skin as he pulls her towards him, the almost feverish heat that is emanating from his body, his scent surrounding her like a curtain…_

_… she tenses as he enters her, her grip around his shoulders tightening painfully… but even in her panicked state of mind, she is strangely touched when he stills above her, sensing her discomfort… trying to be gentle…_

_"Can't last… sorry, too much… want you too much… feels so good…"_

Her heart gave a sudden painful squeeze, that strange, heavy feeling returning almost instantly, and she stopped, confused, her common sense screaming at her to just let it go, to leave the hut and escape this nightmare…

Slowly, she turned, carefully making her way back towards his part of the hut, putting her shoes down besides his backpack, and driven by a sudden urge that she did not fully understand, she reached for his blankets, lying in a disordered heap on his bedroll.

_That would do you right_, snapped the hysteric voice in her head, its words dripping with scorn, _that he catches you while you are draping these blankets around his shoulders. Tell me, Liliana, will he still be grateful as soon as he realises what you have done?_

_Oh, shut up!_, she thought angrily, not certain whether her sudden anger was directed at the voice in her head or her incredible stupidity as she carefully knelt down to cover Bishop with his blankets.

She knew that this probably was a mistake. She knew that she should have simply left the hut, and make a run for it. But seeing him like this, lying on the cold, wooden floor, his face relaxed with sleep, the harsh lines around his eyes and mouth suddenly gone, which made him look so much younger, so much more like a lost little boy and not like a cold blooded murderer, she just _had_ to do it.

For a moment, she knelt by his side to watch him sleep, watched the rise and fall of his chest, listening to the steady sound of his breathing. Then, slowly, she got to her feet and tiptoed through the hut to fetch her shoes, that strange, heavy feeling still tugging at her heart.

Something rolled over the floor as she picked them up, and hastily, she grabbed the small piece of wood to keep it from making any more noise, its surface feeling surprisingly smooth under her fingers. Frowning, Liliana held it a little closer to the light, and her eyes widened noticeably as she realized what she had found.

_Bishop's carving!_

She remembered how he had suddenly jumped to his feet, his face livid, and had thrown the piece of wood into the corner with such vehemence that it seemed to have broken into several pieces and then ricocheted off the wall, its parts now scattered all over the hut. There was something strangely familiar about this piece's shape, and out of an impulse, she studied the carving more closely, slowly turning the wood in her fingers.

At first, it seemed as if he had just mindlessly hacked away at the log to vent his frustration, the cuts deep and irregular. But then, as she stepped a little closer to the door and held her hand into a ray of moonlight, its form came suddenly into sharp relief, and icy shivers ran down her spine while her breath caught painfully in her throat, her heart beating so terribly fast now that it hurt.

A lily.

_But… carving a lily?_

She remembered the fury on Bishop's face after he had thrown the piece of wood into the corner, glaring after it as if it had personally betrayed him, and how he had stormed out of the hut, only to return some moments later with the bottles of berry liquor, starting to drink mindlessly, almost desperately, that haunted expression back on his face…

_You are nothing but a common thug, crawling around in the dirt, not worthy to hold a candle to him. You are disgusting. You are scum._

The words that she had thrown at him like knives came suddenly back to her mind, and she swallowed, remembering how he had crouched before her, grabbing her hair in that painful grip while he had glared at her with these burning eyes, looking so furious, so… hurt?

_Maybe you'll feel different about my filthy touch when that ridiculous dress is pulling you under the water._

She looked over at his sleeping form, her hand closing painfully around the wood, and a strange feeling rose in her chest, a maelstrom of emotions, guilt, hurt, longing and a dozens more, swirling inside her, coiling like snakes, all tugging at her heart and making her feel like it would burst any moment under the sudden strain…

… and even though she tried to fight them down, tears rose in her eyes as she stared at him, at his face, so peaceful now, and for a split second, the memory of his genuine smile was enough to make her feel like the lowliest, most miserable creature _ever_ for all the little games that she had played…

… but then, her anger returned with a vengeance, hauling away all her ill-felt notions of guilt and self-loathing, and hastily, she stowed the carving away in one of the pockets of his breeches and quietly made for the door, fuming inwardly for behaving like a sheep once more.

To think that, for a moment, she had truly felt like _she_ had been the one to blame, for playing him, hurting him, when in fact _he_ was the very man who had abducted her, had held her prisoner, all the time trying to manipulate her, and who was more than willing to kill her with the next sunrise…

It was ridiculous! Insane! And she would do good to remember that, and not wasting her time with draping some blankets around his shoulders!

Luckily, Bishop had not neatly closed the door behind him after his return, and so she only had to open it a little further to slip through, the low, creaking sound enough to make the hairs on her neck stand up, but fortunately, the gods (or the liquor) were still working in her favour and dulled the ranger's normally so sharp senses.

She couldn't keep herself from casting a last glance at his sleeping form, now almost completely cloaked in shadow, and then turned around, carefully sitting down on the lopsided bench to fasten the laces of her shoes, her emotions still in an uproar, his mended tunic draped beside her over the worm-eaten wood to dry.

There was a soft, rustling sound to her right, and Liliana looked up, alarmed – and her heart almost caught in her throat as she saw Karnwyr standing only a few steps away from her, watching her intently, his eyes shining bright in the light of Selune.

_The wolf!_

By the gods, how could she have forgotten?

She stared at the canine with wide eyes, her heart thumping painfully in her chest, and felt her sudden fear and despair reach for her with icy claws, choking her.

But she had been so close. It just was not _fair_!

_Please_, she thought, her eyes fixed on the wolf's face, not knowing whether she was actually pleading with him, or the gods, _don't let this all have been in vain… I don't want to die…_

For some painstaking long moments, he answered her stare solemnly, his eyes unblinking. Then the wolf abruptly turned on his heels, his fast movement actually making her jump, and without a sound, he silently entered the hut, vanishing from her sight.

Liliana stayed behind on the bench, her whole body trembling violently now, and the waves of despair that rippled through her were actually so strong that, for a second, she feared to faint from the sheer strength of her terror, fully expecting the wolf to alert Bishop, to hear the man's cold voice echo through the hut, asking what was wrong…

But the moments ticked by, and nothing happened.

The woods and the hut remained quiet, the silence only disturbed by the occasional sounds of a forest at night and the wind in the trees, but still, she could do nothing but sit there and shiver uncontrollably, her thoughts chasing each other in a panicked race, her terror freezing her effectively to the spot.

_Move_, hissed the hysterical voice in her head, sharp with anger and fear, _by the gods, Liliana, don't let him find you here, huddled up on the bench, jittering for your life. __MOVE!_

Slowly, she got to her feet and staggered away, her legs feeling strangely wobbly, fully expecting to hear the door of the hut open with one of its ominous creaks, to hear the sound of paws sprinting over the leaves, to feel sharp teeth sinking into her flesh to keep her from getting away…

But she had already reached the first line of the trees, and still nothing happened.

_Who knows_, she mused, her thoughts strangely incoherent and distracted while her pulse pounded deafeningly in her ears, _maybe he thinks you're a part of the pack now, after what Bishop…_

That thought sent a wave of nausea rippling through her, and forcefully, she reached for her hair and gripped it tightly, close to her head, and then pulled sharply until her eyes started to water from the pain, a whimpered moan escaping her throat. Liliana let go, breathing heavily, her scalp hurting like hell, but at least, her mind had cleared once more, and determined, she kept walking, one awkward step after the other, for her legs were still feeling unnaturally wobbly.

_No more thinking. No more hesitating. Just go!_

And after a last glance back at the hut, she stepped under the trees and followed the small path down towards the foot of the hill, disappearing quietly into the night.


	20. Chapter 20 Epilogue

_This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading._

_We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did._

* * *

It was eerie to be alone in the woods at night.

Liliana rubbed her arms with her hands against the cold, damp air, casting nervous glances at all sides while she slowly followed the small game trail through the trees. At first, she had been afraid not to be able to see anything at all, which would have forced her to feel her way and would have slowed her progress immensely, but the moon was almost full and cast a surprisingly bright light through the canopy of leaves, making it much easier to move on after her eyes had gotten used to the strange play of light and shadow between the trees.

Still, she had never been alone in the woods at night before, and the rustling sounds in the nearby bushes or occasional cries of a bird made her jump and her heart speed up painfully.

Her instincts screamed at her to just let go, to run, to bring more distance between her and the hut, but she forced herself to follow the path slowly, taking her time to check the ground for any half-hidden root or branch, while every rustle made her turn around in fear, fully expecting to see Bishop on the path behind her, the moonlight reflecting in his unusual eyes.

But beside the occasional rustling in the undergrowth, everything remained quiet, and so Liliana continued to follow the trail, her heart beating like a drum in her chest.

All the rustling worried her. It would not do to escape him and the hut only to be eaten by a wolf or a bear (or, even worse, by vampires or ghouls), but there was not much she could do about it besides sending fast prayer after prayer to the gods, begging for their good-will, and so she simply followed the path that she had chosen, her heart in her throat, hoping that she was moving in the right direction.

There was a wet, sloshing sound, and Liliana had to catch herself against the tree next to her as one of her heels sank deep into the still soaked earth, leaving a prominent imprint in the ground as she pulled it out to stagger on.

She knew that she was most likely leaving a trail that Bishop could follow even with his eyes closed, but as long as she was wearing her boots, there was not much that she could do about it.

She had even pondered to get out of her boots again and continue on bare feet, but had finally decided against it. Although it was much brighter between the trees than she had expected, it was still night, and one sharp stone or upturned branch would be enough to cut a foot, and then, she would never make it out of the forest in time.

But it was hard to search her way through the undergrowth and _not_ turn around at the slightest sound, alarmed, the memory of her first try to escape still very vivid in her mind.

_Little mouse…_

She shuddered as she remembered the sound of his voice, echoing through the trees, mocking her, playing with her, knowing that she would never be able to escape him…

_What did I tell you about trying to run, mousie?_

She swallowed as she easily recalled the sneering sound of his voice, the cold, menacing undercurrent of his words, and shivered, rubbing her arms more strongly to make the goose bumps go away.

Somehow, she doubted that this time, she would get away with a snarl and a show of his bad temper afterwards.

The memory of that afternoon brought other memories back to her mind, and her heart gave a strange pang as she remembered the look in his eyes as he had kissed her for the very first time, of how his fingers had gently reached for hers, that now so familiar burning in his eyes, and how that fire had suddenly died away, no doubt in the very moment as he must have remembered that she was not Riana.

Not the woman that he was waiting for.

Her heart gave another pang at that thought, and angrily, Liliana shook her head while trudging along the path.

_I should be glad that I'm gone_, she thought scornfully, her sudden anger at her weekness and stupidity making her movements stiff and disjointed.

No more hesitation. No more confusion. No more ill-felt notions of compassion, or affection, or… _whatever_. He was nothing more than a mean, evil bastard, willing to murder people for gold. There was nothing there to admire. Or to like. Only lies and deceit, and now, where she had miraculously managed to escape, she was done with him.

Simple as that.

But somehow, despite knowing all that, besides her mind easily recalling all the ordeals that he had made her go through in these days while she quietly searched her way between the trees, the heavy feeling in her heart would not go away.

xxx

It was barely more than a coincidence that made her find the road in the end.

She had been making her way quietly between the trees for what felt like hours, trotting down one game trail after another, always choosing the one that would lead her vaguely into the direction that she hoped to be South, trying to ignore the dull pain that slowly spread in her feet.

At first, she had felt confident to find a way out of the woods, taking a sharp look at the ground whenever she had come across another game trail, always relieved when she could find no trace of heel imprints on the ground, which told her that she was at least not running in circles.

But after a while, when she had walked down hill after hill without finding the slightest trace of a road or a settlement, she had been forced to admit to herself that, in truth, she had no idea where she was going, and whether she had ever been able to find the direction Bishop had been talking about in the first place.

It had almost brought her down, the rising panic mingling painfully with her growing fear that she would not make it, that he would find her again, until she had finally realised that she could use the starlit night to her favour.

One of her paths had crossed a small clearing, and she had looked up to see Selune high in the skies above her, her tears sparkling bright, half-hidden in the top of the trees. For one moment, she had stared up, her hand shielding her eyes against the light, and had noticed with surprise how much brighter the moon seemed to shine out here in the wilds, compared to Waterdeep.

And then, the idea had hit her. She might not have moved in circles, but she had been painfully aware of the fact that she had not been able to walk always in the same direction, no matter how hard she had tried to find her way in the woods.

But if she kept an eye on the moon, trying to keep it always to her right… wouldn't she be able to walk in a line then? And eventually head south?

It might have been only a small silver lining on the horizon, but it had been enough to calm her fears and rekindle her determination, and so she had left the path that she had originally followed to choose another, smaller one which lead deeper into the woods, but brought the moon to her right side.

She had followed that path for a while, always moving from clearing to clearing to check whether the moon was still in the right place, and then changing her way according to it, until she had reached a part of the woods where mostly conifers grew, and it had been getting really hard to follow the trail on the mossy ground, and to keep an eye on the moon.

Just in the very moment as another choking wave of fear and resignation had welled through her, she had spotted a band of bright light between the trees, and had swiftly moved in that direction, hoping that she hadn't lost her way completely… only to step down a small hill and see the road lying before her, a small ribbon of earth and grass cut into the line of trees.

For a while, she had just stood at its side, gaping at the horse-shoe and wheel imprints in astonishment, not able to believe at first that she had truly made it this far. Then she had looked up and down the empty lane, and confusion had mingled with the sudden joy that had flooded her being.

Where to go?

To her, every direction had looked the same, and she had had no idea whether this actually was the same road as the one that they had travelled from Waterdeep, alone in which direction her home lay.

_Home._

Longing had pierced her heart at that thought, an urge so powerful that it had made tears well up in her eyes, and hastily, she had wiped them away with her hands before casting one last glance at the sky, finally deciding to follow the path down to her right.

This way, she would walk towards the moon, and not away from it, and strangely enough, it felt _right_ to her somehow. She knew that it was a childish notion, but from the moment that she had decided to let Selune be her guide, things had changed for the better, and so it had felt natural to walk towards her rather than to turn her back on her.

Now she was walking down the road, still casting nervous glances over her shoulder from time to time, fearing to see Bishop or his wolf following her down the road, but except for a racoon, she had not come across another living being for what felt like hours.

Her feet were burning like fire now, her heels feeling so chafed that she feared they were actually bleeding, and Liliana cursed herself for her own stupidity to have chosen these shoes for her trip into the wilds, for they had never been made to walk long distances outdoors.

_Next time, I'll wear breeches and boots for a picnic, no matter what Jeanne might have to say about that_, she thought ruefully while she limped down the road, the exhaustion of a long and wearing night finally catching up with her.

She staggered on, step after aching step, focusing her mind on willing her feet to keep going, and so it took her a while before the strange noise reached her ear. It was a rattling and squeaking sound, and Liliana turned around, puzzled… and her heart almost caught in her throat as she saw the covered wagon merely a hundred yards down the road, rumbling towards her.

_Rescue, _was the first thought that came to her mind, and her heart swelled with joy and relief as she watched the cart approach. There was a man sitting on the box, holding the reins of the two horses that pulled the wagon, his bearded face half-hidden under his hood while the other half was illuminated by a lantern which dangled at his side.

The sight of the beard brought other, darker memories to her mind, and she swallowed as she remembered the bearded man who had come to the hut with his companions, shuddering at the memory of his lecherous voice.

_What if he's hostile?_

That thought put a sudden damper to her freshly risen spirits, and Liliana silently cursed herself once more for her stupidity. How could she just stand here, waiting, when she had no idea whether that man and the companions who might be hiding in the wagon were decent?

She watched the cart approach, a lump of dread settling in her stomach, but did her best to fight that feeling. There was nothing she could do about it, anyway. Her hair and Bishop's tunic shone like a beacon in the bright light of Selune, and so she doubted that she could vanish between the trees unnoticed, even if her feet were not hurting so badly.

She lifted her eyes to the moon, and her heart beat fast in her throat as she began a silent prayer.

_Moonmaiden_, she pleaded, _I know we have never been close before, but today, I felt like you were watching over me, your presence soothing, encouraging me. Please, do not forsake me now, and I will honour you. I swear!_

There was the sound of a snorting horse nearby, and Liliana looked up, the lump of dread in her stomach icing over as she saw that the cart had almost closed the distance between them. She had just enough time to ask herself why she had not been clever enough to take at least one of Bishop's daggers with her as the man on the wagon looked up and pulled at the reins, just once, making the cart stop right by her side.

The cart driver was an elderly man, his trimmed black beard already rimmed with silver streaks, and even his wide cloak and hood could not hide the fact that he was well-built, the buckles of his leather armour blinking conspicuously in the light of the lantern as he leaned forward to size her up with piercing grey eyes.

"What are ye doin' out here, missy?"

His voice sounded deep and suspicious, with a strange accent that she had never heard before, and at his words, Liliana felt her heart leap in her chest as a different kind of panic welled through her.

_What actually?_

"I… I have been out in the woods with some friends for a picnic,", she stammered, a part of her opposing to tell the whole truth all of a sudden, to acknowledge what had truly happened to her in the past few days, " But then I got lost somehow, and have been trying to find a way back home all night…"

The eyebrows of the man shot up, and Liliana almost squirmed under his scrutinizing stare, fully aware of how foolish her story must have sounded, considering that they had met in the middle of nowhere, at night, with her dressed in man's clothing.

"Please,", she continued pleadingly, and driven by the sudden fear that the man would simply leave her behind because he had sensed her obvious lie, she took a step closer and reached for the cart with trembling hands, "I know what this must look like, but it's such a long story, and I really mean no harm, I promise. If you could only take me to the nearest settlement, I will…"

"Why have we stopped, dear?"

A second voice came from behind a heavy velvety veil that separated the box from the inner wagon, a woman's voice, questioning, and although it had not been overly loud, Liliana jumped nonetheless.

The curtain parted, and a woman's head appeared between its folds, curly black hair framing a beautiful, heart-shaped face, and although she seemed to be the same age as her companion, not a single grey hair disgraced the mane of dark curls that fell over her shoulders. Her black eyes wandered searchingly to her companion, and then to Liliana, widening noticeably as they settled on the girl.

"Oh, sweetheart, what are you doing out here alone at night?"

"Says she's been out fer a picnic with some friends, and got lost somehow.", the cart driver answered in his deep, suspicious voice, his piercing eyes still fixed on Liliana's face.

"And so you're just going to let her stay out here, or what?", the woman replied rather sternly, a frown on her beautiful face.

"No.", the man growled, casting the woman an annoyed look. "But never hurts to be suspicious."

"Nonsense!", the woman replied vehemently as she glared at her companion, while on the other hand making an encouraging gesture towards Liliana, who watched the dispute with large eyes. "Come up here, sweetheart, you must be freezing!"

"Could've been a trap. Bandits. Not unheard of.", the man grumbled over his shoulder, but leaned forward nonetheless to offer Liliana a hand so that she could climb onto the wagon.

"Name's Korban.", he murmured as she sat down on the box next to him, „Charmin' lady in the back s'called Deliah."

"I heard that!", the woman called Deliah addressed her companion in a cross voice, only to turn towards Liliana and ask with a smile:

"And what's your name, sweetheart?"

"Liliana."

The woman's smile widened.

"And what a pretty name that is."

She moved back behind the veil and into the wagon, her hand waving for Liliana to follow her.

"Come in, sweetheart, come in."

So Liliana quietly got up again, her heart still beating fast in her chest, and followed the woman into the wagon, murmuring words of thanks to the man as she passed him by.

Korban nodded at her, acknowledging her grateful words with a pleased glint in his piercing eyes, and then returned his attention to the road. There was the sharp, whipping sound of the reins, and the cart began moving again, rumbling down the road, and Liliana had to catch herself quickly against the wooden walls at the unexpected motion.

The inside of the wagon seemed much larger and spacious than it had looked from the outside. Soft cushions and carpets lay on the floor, draped artfully around a small cherrywood table. Trunks and cupboards rimmed the walls right to another curtain at the far end of the cart, which seemed to separate two bedsteads from the living room.

Various lanterns cast a bright, homely light, and the smell of perfume and foreign herbs filled the air. Liliana stood in the entrance, one hand still pressed firmly against the wall of the cart, and nervously watched her hostess gather a heap of parchments from the small table, uncertain whether she should step closer or not.

The woman took the papers, quill and ink and walked over to one of the trunks to her right, whispering a quiet word under her breath while her hand wandered casually over the lock of the chest. There was a soft, metallic clicking sound, and the woman opened the trunk to store the things inside.

Liliana caught a quick glance of several books and the beautifully crafted hilt of a sword before the chest closed with another clicking sound, and the woman turned around and smiled at her guest, making an inviting gesture towards the table.

"Come, sweetheart, you don't have to lurk in the doorway all night. Sit, and let me make you a cup of tea – you look frozen."

Liliana cast the woman a small, trembling smile and walked over to the table, careful not to fall over as the cart rumbled over the road.

"Thank you, madame.", Liliana said as she sat down gingerly on one of the cushions, "I am so grateful for your offer, and that you and your companion have taken me in."

The woman's smile widened.

"Please, it's Deliah, not madame."

She walked over to one of the cupboards and placed two cups and a teapot on the small table, right along with a stony warmer. Small runes were edged all over its surface, and Liliana's eyes widened as her hostess placed the teapot on the warmer and the runes began to emanate a soft, reddish light.

"Heating charm.", the woman said, obviously amused by the astounded look on her young guest's face. "Not strong enough for cooking, but very handy if you like to have a cup of tea on the road without setting up a camp."

She sat down on the table as well and started to fill some deliciously smelling herbs into the already steaming pot.

"So, sweetheart, where are you heading?"

It sounded like an innocent question, but as Liliana looked up, she saw her hostess watching her with a thoughtful expression on her face, the look in her black eyes strangely reminding her of the way Nerdanel used to stare at her when her governess already knew that Liliana had done something wrong.

Another pang of longing pierced her heart at that thought, and Liliana lowered her eyes to the glowing warmer again, deciding to go for the truth this time.

"Waterdeep."

She heard the woman chuckle, a merry sound, like the ringing of a bell.

"Ah, sweetheart, Lady Luck must really have been smiling on you today."

That made Liliana stare up at her again, her eyes wide and her heart beat speeding up painfully fast.

"You mean… are you really…?"

The woman smiled.

"Oh yes. But tell me, sweetheart, how come that a young girl like you ended up in this part of the forests, alone, and at night?"

Liliana swallowed, painfully aware of Bishop's way too large tunic and breeches, practically screaming that every tale that she could come up with was an obvious lie. But how could she explain what had happened to her in the last few days, the nightmare that she had just left behind?

"I… already told your friend. I got lost.", she replied in a rather subdued voice, averting her eyes, letting them wander through the cart, desperate to find something that she could use for a change of subject to distract her hostess with, and her eyes fell on a lovingly decorated lute hanging on the wall, its polished surface gleaming in the dim light of the lanterns.

"Are you a bard?"

"Oh yes.", the woman smiled, but her eyes betrayed that she had noticed Liliana's attempt to change the subject.

"Deliah al-Haffrain – legendary bard, fortune-teller and best bellydancer on the Sword Coast, at your service.", the woman stated with a small, flourishing bow, and Liliana giggled, thankful that her hostess seemed to understand her sudden discomfort and had allowed the conservation to turn in a different direction.

"One of the great fairs of the season will start in a few days, and what bard would I be if I missed such an opportunity?"

"I see.", Liliana replied, but only half-registered that the woman was handing her a steaming cup of tea.

_The fair!_

Memories came to her mind, of Evelyn and her sitting in the girl's room the day before the picnic, making plans for the coming season, laughing and talking all afternoon about wonderfully silly girl things.

It seemed a lifetime ago.

The scent of the freshly brewed tea rose into her nose, and at the enticing smell, her stomach began grumbling audibly, the loud sounds making her flinch. The woman cast her guest a knowing look, but got up without a word and returned a few moments later with a small plate, bearing cheese and dark bread. Liliana's stomach grumbled again at the sight, and unconsciously, she curled her hands over her belly to make it stop.

"Here,", the woman said softly, "But take it slow. And when you're finished, you should lay down a bit and get some sleep. We won't arrive at the city before dawn, and you could use the rest."

Her black eyes still bore that knowing look, and Liliana gulped, a great wave of gratitude and relief welling through her that the woman seemed to have guessed that there was much more to her story than she had let slip, but was still not prying into things.

"Thank you.", she murmured, already reaching for the bread. The woman smiled gently, and then bent down to ruffle Liliana's hair.

"You're most welcome, sweetheart."

"I will go and sit with Korban for a while.", the woman continued while reaching for a thick, woolen cloak hanging on a hook near the entrance. "Eat, and then sleep. I will wake you when we near the gates."

And with that, she draped the woolen cloth around her shoulders and stepped through the curtain, leaving Liliana behind, slowly chewing the bread and cheese while sipping quietly on her tea, relishing the warmth that spread through her aching stomach, and joy and astonishment filled her heart with wonder as she suddenly realised that this was _truly_ happening to her.

_I'm really going home._

xxx

The first light of day was already illuminating the horizon as the cart entered the small lane that lead to the main mansion.

Liliana sat on the box next to Deliah, a blanket around her shoulders, and stared with wonder at the familiar sight of the lovingly raked gravel and well-trimmed bushes.

It felt so bizarre.

For days, she had dreamed to see this sight again, to return to her home, to her family… but now that she was here, watching the cart rumbling through the familiar streets of the North Ward, everything felt unreal, somehow.

Like a dream.

She would never forget the face of their gatekeeper as Korban had stopped the cart in front of the gate and old Jebediah had shuffled out of his gatekeeper's house, his hair tousled from sleep… and how his eyes had grown large as he had seen her sitting on the box, almost falling over his feet in his hurry to open the iron gates and then sprinting up the lane, probably heading for the house.

The cart followed the last turn of the road, and Liliana's heart felt as if it was squeezed roughly in her chest as the manor finally came into view, the sight of the familiar marble staircases and elegantly swung windows filling her with a strangely powerful ache of longing and joy, and her heart swelled as she watched the cart crossing the remaining distance towards the entrance.

Something felt off, somehow, but it took her a while to realise that, although the sun had not yet risen over the horizon, the lights in most of the rooms were already lit, and she gaped at the illuminated windows in astonishment, surprised that the household seemed to be awake already at this hour of day.

But she did not have much time to dwell on her realisation, for the door of the mansion flew open the very moment Korban stopped the cart at the foot of the staircase, and a woman ran out of the house, dressed in a simple dressing-gown, her usually exquisitely styled hair in a loose plait, hurrying down the stairs, and at the sight, the ache in Liliana's heart became almost unbearable, and with a small cry, she hopped down from the cart and into the woman's open arms.

"Mama!"

Her mother's arms closed around her in a crushing embrace, pulling her against her chest, and Liliana closed her eyes as the familiar scent of perfume and make-up made tears well up in her eyes. She could feel her mother's tears on her cheek, slowly streaming down to her neck.

"My baby!", the woman sobbed as she pulled her even closer against her, her voice shaking. "Oh, my poor, little baby!"

"Thank the gods!", said a deep, male voice near-by, and Liliana looked up, her heart giving another squeeze as she saw her father standing beside them, looking pale and over-worked, but with a happy smile on his face. His eyes were glittering moist in the first light of day.

"Papa?", Liliana asked, the surreal feeling increasing at the unexpected sight. "But… I thought you were still in Neverwinter…"

Her father laughed, a strange sobbing sound, and stepped closer, his arms closing tightly around his daughter. Her mother stepped aside, still crying silently, but with a smile on her pale face.

"My silly girl.", her father whispered into her ear. "Did you really think that I would stay just one single day in that cursed city after I had gotten the news?"

He leaned back to look into her face, his hand softly stroking her cheek, and Liliana was stunned to see the dark circles under his eyes and the light stubble on his chin.

"Blessed be Waukeen!", he said, his lips trembling slightly. "We had almost given up the hope of seeing you again."

Her father stepped back, turning his attention to Deliah and Korban, who had watched the events from a small distance, obviously trying not to intrude on the family's reunion. Her mother stepped forward again to press her tightly against her chest, laughing and sobbing at the same time, and Liliana leaned into the embrace with a sigh, relishing the caress... and her eyes suddenly fell on Damian, standing on the stairs, watching them with a thunderstruck expression on his equally pale face, as if he could not believe his eyes.

Her heart gave another loving squeeze, and Liliana gently disentangled herself from her mother's touch and ran up the stairs to pull her brother into a tight embrace.

He huffed as she pressed the air out of his lungs, and his voice sounded rough as he murmured into her ear, his arms closing around her.

"Lily…", he whispered, and she could feel his hands trembling. "Thank the _gods_ you have returned…"

"Of course I have returned, silly!", she smiled as she nestled against his chest, her silent tears wetting his tunic as a wave of joy and relief flooded her being, finally driving her fear and her nightmares away.

She had made it.

She was home again, and from now on, she would be safe.

xxx

Someone was pounding the inside of his skull with a sledgehammer.

Bishop groaned and tentatively opened one of his eyes. The bright light seeping into the hut was like a dagger driving right into his brain. With another groan, he shut his eye again and carefully extracted one hand from under the blankets to touch his aching skull.

By the pits of all nine hells, what had happened? He felt like he was having the mother of all hangovers...

_Wait, hangover...?_

Last night... the girl, his harebrained plan at seduction... the way she rejected him... the pain, the booze...

_The girl?_

He froze under his blankets. He did not even have to open his eyes to know he was alone. He could sense it. There was no one in the cabin. No one except for him.

She was gone.

Except he had chained her to the wall, hadn't he...?

"_Bishop... come here... Come to me..."_

"_Come to me, Bishop... it's me, it's Riana..."_

His eyes sprang open again, and this time, the horror he felt drowned out the pain in his skull. His hand went to his chest, searching for the locket and key he wore on the chain... finding nothing.

For minutes, he just lay petrified, trying to process what had happened.

_She tricked me!_

_She made me believe... believe she was _her_... and shit-faced idiot that I was, I fell for it, I went to her..._

The images came in rapid succession. How he had kneeled before her, blubbering like a ninny. Her hand in his hair. His lips on her mouth. His fingers, ripping her dress. Her hands, pressed against his shoulders. Her warmth, surrounding him. The pure bliss of feeling her skin against his. Drawing her near afterwards, her hand stroking his chest...

_Searching for the key, more like._

The thought finally made something snap in him, and the frozen shock dissipated, leaving him with a medley of emotions warring in his chest, pain, fury and hurt pride most prominent amongst them.

_She has played me for a fool!_

He let out a hoarse cry of fury and jumped to his feet. His eyes found the open ring at the end of the chain – and the key and locket discarded next to it.

Red-hot rage descended over him, and with another harsh cry he turned, grabbed the iron pot that stood next to the fireplace and hurled it across the room. It connected with the opposite wall with a bang and dropped to the floor, leaving a dent. Another step brought him to the lopsided chair, which he lifted and smashed it against the fireplace, where it broke to splinters. With a scream of pure ire he tossed the remnants aside, lifted the table over his head and sent it flying against the wall as well. Some of the legs broke, but the board dropped to the floor, intact.

He went over, lifted it up and smashed it against the wall again and again, until there was nothing than splinters left as well. Then his eyes fell on the heap of blue cloth on the floor, next to the blankets. Her dress! With a snarl, he grabbed the soft velvet from the floor and ripped it to shreds between his hands.

Then, there was nothing left to destroy. Another howl of impotent fury escaped him, and he sank to the floor, breathing heavily, his fists clenched so tightly the nails were digging into his palm, drawing blood. He did not even notice.

After endless minutes the red mist in front of his eyes seemed to lift, and his brain started working again.

Unfortunately, that meant he could feel the pounding in his skull once more. And the way his mouth felt parched.

_Water... need water._

He went to his feet and stumbled out of the hut, leaving the devastation behind. With shaking hands, he pulled up a bucketfull of water and drank thirstily. The rest he dumped over his aching head. The cold water felt wonderful.

He slipped to the ground, his head leaning back against the well, and took deep, even breaths of morning air. Gradually, the pain in his skull lessened a bit, and his ability to think clearly returned.

The little mouse had fled. She had duped him, and ran back into the arms of her precious Cedric.

And left him looking like an idiot.

His fury returned, but this time it was cold and calculating.

_We'll see about this, won't we...?_

His eyes opened – and met Karnwyr's stare, who was reclining next to the worm eaten bench, muzzle on his paws, watching his master intently.

Bishop's fury rose a few notches.

"And you...", he said, low and menacingly. "You just let her go...?"

The wolf lifted his head and stared at him.

"Don't give me that look! How could you let her go?" Bishop climbed to his feet and approached his companion, hands balled to fists again. "You knew I did not want her to leave!"

The wolf blinked and let his head sink to his paws.

"You did it on purpose, did you not? Whose side are you on?"

His companion's head shot up again, and he glared at his master, incense and indignation written clearly on his furry face.

"Oh, don't act all offended! Next thing you're going to tell me you did it for me!"

Karnwyr's tongue lolled out, and he seemed to grin.

Bishop watched him, his eyes narrowed to angry slits. "Well, whatever you were thinking, you were wrong. And it's not going to work. I'll find her, believe me. And if I do, she will wish I'd just shove her down a cliff. She made a fool out of me. Trust me, I'll make her regret that. And now get out of my sight."

He turned back to the hut to gather his stuff, still fuming at the betrayal of his usually so reliable companion. Minutes later he left the cabin again, his leathers donned, his scimitars strapped around his hips, bow on his back, his belongings in the backpack on his back, and the locket around his neck again. Wearing the shirt the girl had washed and mended for him. His hands shook when he held it, repressing the urge to rip it with a howl like he had done with the dress. But common sense had won, this time... after all, it was the only shirt he had left, since the girl seemed to have nicked the other one.

He'd be glad to leave this cursed place behind at last.

He circled the hut in some distance, ignoring Karnwyr's wounded stare, looking for the tell-tale imprints of the heels of her ridiculous boots. And sure enough, he found them. A track, not more than a couple of hours old. Leading into the direction of the small road that ran nearby.

"_By the way, you could have easily escaped that day, if you had run in the other direction. Let that thought keep you warm tonight."_

He groaned. He had even told her where to go. Smart move, that.

Except he had never expected her to outsmart him like that.

The thought made his stomach churn with anger again.

_He who laughs last, laughs loudest. This is not over, princess, I swear. And I _will_ laugh. While you scream in pain._

His jaw clenched, his rage a cold weight in his stomach, he followed her tracks easily. At one point, she seemed to have stopped and turned back to the the hut.

_To gloat one last time over the dolt that fell for your little game so easily? Well, hope you had a lot of fun – you're going to pay dearly for it._

Murder on his mind, Bishop proceeded in her footsteps. She had not walked in a straight line, probably because she did not really know where to go, but in the end, her tracks reached the road that ran through this part of the woods.

Luckily, after the heavy rain two nights ago, it was not too hard to find the imprints of her boots on the lane either. She had even picked the right direction, the one that would lead her to Waterdeep eventually.

Now that he knew where to go, he followed swiftly. Maybe he could still catch her on the road, since, in her silly boots, she could not walk as quickly, and would tire much sooner than him. If he was lucky, he'd catch her soon. And boy, would she be sorry.

Periodically checking for her tracks to make sure he was still on her trail and she had not left the road for some reason, he stopped when he suddenly could not make them out anymore. Frowning, he slowly made his way back and found the point where they just seemed to vanish.

The last imprint of her boot was turned towards the middle of the road, and deeper than the rest of them, with a bit of a slide backwards.

_Pushing upwards._

There were cart tracks, too. Obviously, the cart had stopped here for a short time.

_Curses!_

She had managed to hitch a ride. So much for his plans to catch her on the road. The track he was watching still was some hours old. She was long out of his reach.

For some moments his fury seemed to choke him, but then he lifted his head and looked ahead, along the road, with a cold smile on his face.

No harm done, really. What were a couple of days when in the end, there would be sweet revenge? He could wait. Let her believe she had escaped to safety. He would teach her better. And it would make everything so much worse for her when she finally had to see her death in his face.

He would find her. And he knew _exactly_ where to start looking.


End file.
